


Behind Closed Doors

by TheLonelyGodWithABox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 118,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyGodWithABox/pseuds/TheLonelyGodWithABox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Minerva becomes concerned when Harry does not respond to his acceptance letter. She sends Severus to check on him, and he soon finds that all is not well at the Dursley house. Abused!Harry, Semi-Dark!Dumbledore (you won't understand till you read it). No slash. M for abuse. Mentor/guardian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the Dursleys

It was a long day, sorting through all the various replies she was getting. Of course, every year was like this. She had responses by owl, and she had responses by Muggle post. Those were the easy ones, albeit tedious. The worst ones were those which she hadn't heard from.

Professor McGonnagall sat in her office, reading the last of the responses to the invitations to attend Hogwarts. Getting the responses from the Muggle-borns was always an interesting prospect. Hogwarts, of course, rented a Muggle house and that was the address where those responses were sent. The mailbox had an automatic portkey in it so anything delivered there would appear on her desk immediately. And then all those blasted owls. Cleaning spells flew plentifully out of her wand during this time of year.

She checked off the names on her list of prospective students as she read through the replies. They had all been affirmative, except for two Muggle-borns. Well, that was the right of the parents, even if she disagreed with it. Carefully, she checked off the name of her final response. She was a Muggle-born, Hermione Granger, and her parents had been skeptical of the whole situation in the beginning. After a short demonstration, though, they were fully supportive of their daughter's educational prospects. Personally, Minerva was betting the girl would be a Ravenclaw, judging from reports she got of her bookish personality.

She sighed. Now the difficult part. She scoffed at the thought. As though this hadn't been difficult enough to begin with. But now she had to deal with those who hadn't bothered to give her an answer at all. Scanning her list quickly, she saw there were less and half a dozen in this category. Well, fewer than last year. She was doing well. But then she began to read those names.

Potter, Harry James

In the care of Vernon and Petunia Dursley

Her eyebrow shot up, and she couldn't help thinking of a certain potions master who would undoubtedly be quite proud of her feat. Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Petunia was Lily's sister, and if she remembered correctly, Petunia was no friend of the wizarding world. How often had she had to listen to Lily's tears after the holidays, or after having received a letter? And she doubted her husband would be any friendlier. Somehow, the lack of response disturbed her greatly.

She had warned Dumbledore about leaving Harry there that night ten years ago. But he hadn't listened. Since when had that old fool every listened to anyone? Well, probably back with what's-his-name for a friend. She huffed. Well, this was definitely a delicate situation. Potter definitely had to attend Hogwarts. Thankfully, they would not have to rely on the Dursley's cooperation for such, since Dumbledore was his magical guardian. But still, the Dursleys didn't know this and should have responded.

Making a decision suddenly, she summoned her patronus and sent it with a message through the hallways of Hogwarts. A few moments later, there was a knock on her door.

"Enter!" she called. The door opened Severus Snape slipped into the room. He walked to the front of her desk, placed his hands behind his back and looked at her.

"I trust you had something important to discuss with me?" he demanded. "I don't usually take kindly to anyone - even the headmaster - interrupting my brewing for Poppy."

"Of course, Severus," McGonnagall replied. "I have something of a problem, and I was hoping you could help me with it."

"Well? What is it?" he snapped back. What did the blasted woman want with him when the school year hadn't even started yet? Everyone knew to leave him alone during the summer. It was the only time he got to himself without little brats bothering him with all their problems. Yes, yes, he instructed them to bring their problems to him, but still, he appreciated some time to himself.

"I have an invitation which hasn't gotten a response," she explained. She stopped and looked at Severus.

"And?" he pressed. "I believe you have been the deputy headmistress long enough to know that protocol is to send a second invitation."

"Yes, of course, Severus," she said. "But I don't think that is necessarily the wisest or the most effective course of action in this case. I think someone should have a look in on this boy. Call it a feeling, but I think it should be discussed with him, even though he isn't a Muggle-born."

"And you want me to look in on the situation?" Severus cut in. "Minerva, you know I don't do that sort of thing. You know I spend the summer stock piling the infirmary with potions for your idiot Gryffindors who don't know how to save their own necks."

"Yes, I want you to look in on the situation," Minerva replied. "You're already running ahead of schedule on the potions. I need you to do this for me."

"Who is it?"

"Harry Potter." Severus looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"You want me to look in on Potter?" he fairly growled at her. "Have you gone mad, woman?"

"Severus, I'm just concerned about the boy. You know Petunia wasn't fond of magic."

"Concerned? I'm sure Potter just thought himself above responding. Do you know how much they receive in return for taking care of the boy? The only thing you need concern yourself about is cavities in his teeth from all the sweets he probably gets, and his arrogant attitude."

"Severus!" Minerva said, sternly but gently. "I truly am concerned about the boy. I didn't like leaving the boy there in the beginning, and Albus insisted. I can't go to just anyone for this, since it isn't within protocol, and I don't need Albus knowing about it. Please just go check on him, and get his answer please? For me?"

"Fine," Severus barked sullenly. "But then you'll owe me a favor." Well, he might as well at least be able to get something in return for this most unpleasant favor.

"Of course, Severus," Minerva conceded readily. "Just please check on Harry soon."

"Will tonight be soon enough for you?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "That will be most acceptable." How could she smile at him at a time like this? Being sent off to visit Potter's spawn and Lily's child, neither of which was a pleasant prospect, you would think the woman enjoyed this! He huffed at the thought.

.oO-Oo.

Fine. He stood outside Number 4 Private Drive, and you could tell from the neighborhood that the Dursleys were very well off. Maybe not filthy rich, but certainly very, very comfortable. He narrowed his eyes at the thought of "checking" on Potter. This was absolutely ridiculous. How could Minerva not see that this was just a waste of time? The only good thing about this was that he would get a favor done for him most likely during the school year. And with Potter attending, he would definitely need one.

He hadn't bothered to change into Muggle clothes. Why should he? Petunia and Vernon knew of wizards of course, and he didn't care what others in the neighborhood thought of him. Coming up to the door, and rang the doorbell. Waiting a minute impatiently, he crossed his arms, and began tapping out a rhythm with his fingers. After what seemed an eternity, the door opened, and he returned to a neutral position.

"Snape!" a woman hissed at him.

"And this is Petunia Dursley I have the misfortune of addressing?" he threw back, with a sneer.

"Get off my porch," she said, her tone remarkably level.

"Trust me, Petunia," he drawled, "I want to be here as little as you want to have me. So let me finish my business here and we both can continue our lives as normally as we otherwise would." He placed his hand on the door, since he had a feeling it would soon be closed in his face. Whether he was right or not, he didn't know, because Petunia stepped aside and he stepped in.

"What do you want?" she said.

"Who is it?" a voice boomed from the kitchen.

"It's...one of them," Petunia called back. She sounded like she had just seen something particularly repulsive. Well, Severus felt he could sympathize at the moment. He smirked at the thought slightly. Vernon Dursley rounded the corner, and for a moment he and Severus sized each other up.

"I'm here to speak to Mr. Potter about his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, which he so conveniently ignored," Severus said, addressing both of them. "The faster I can see Mr. Potter, the faster we can have our talk, and the faster I will leave you. So if you please."

"He's not here," Vernon said.

"Then please, do tell me where he is," Severus said, bordering either curiosity or contempt, he wasn't sure which.

"How should we know where he is?" Petunia said.

"I do believe you should know where your nephew - a near eleven year old - is," he drawled back. Perhaps there was something to Minerva's concern?

"He's over at a friend's house," Vernon assured him. "After all, it's his birthday today, so he went visiting. He won't be back until supper. So maybe you should come back another time?" Severus' mind was racing trying to bring old memories back. Well, today was July 31st, and it did seem, now that Vernon mentioned it, that Lily had given birth on this day, eleven years ago.

"No," Severus declined. "As much as I would dearly love to leave you in peace right now, I must wait for Mr. Potter to return. If I could have a cup of tea?" He noticed the worried looks the two Dursleys exchanged, and wondered what that could be. Probably nothing more than the thought of having one of them staying for the afternoon.

.oO-Oo.

Supper time was nearing. And still, there was no sign of Mr. Harry James Potter. Severus sighed. He'd been waiting in this blasted Muggle house for hours now, and he wanted to go back to Hogwarts and finish that potion Minerva had so kindly taken him from. It was clear that Potter lived the privileged life he knew he had. There was nothing for Minerva to worry about. But he knew that after investing this much effort into the project, to come back to her without having seen him and without an answer - that would just not work. He certainly wouldn't get his favor from her this coming school year.

"Will Mr. Potter be arriving soon?" he asked, breaking a long held silence.

"He should be back soon," Vernon said, slightly nervously. Well of course the man was nervous. Having an ex-Death Eater - well, Vernon didn't know that, but he was still a dark man - sitting in one's kitchen all afternoon, and now for supper too, couldn't be an easy thing for a wizard hating Muggle to accept. Severus nodded his acknowledgement. Wordlessly, dinner was served, and the Dursleys, he noticed, did have enough decency to give him a plate, even if they had never actually invited him. They ate in silence.

.oO-Oo.

"Where is your son, Petunia?" Severus asked, after dinner was taken care of.

"He's also at a friend's house," Petunia replied.

"The same as Mr. Potter?"

"No," Petunia said cautiously, guardedly. "At least I don't believe so." Severus nodded.

"Mr. Potter should be back soon," he continued. "It's almost dark. Will he be calling you when he leaves?"

"I doubt it," Petunia said. Severus huffed a bit. Just like a Potter. Spending his birthday with whatever group of Marauders he had collected, ignoring his relatives, and then not even having the decency - or the common sense - to call when he was leaving. Alright, he might be a wizard, but he couldn't send a patronus, so of course he should use the telephone.

.oO-Oo.

"It's getting very late," Severus observed. He hated stating the obvious, but with Muggles, one could never be too sure. Well, with any non-Slytherins. He didn't want to speculate what house Petunia or Vernon would get if they could be sorted. "Where is Mr. Potter?"

"He must be spending the night," Vernon concluded. "So you might as well drop by some other time."

"You seem very intent on getting rid of me," Severus said. "As I am also of leaving, but not before I finish what I came here to do. Will you please call his friends until you find which ones he's staying with?"

"That wouldn't do!" Petunia objected. "It's not good form!"

"It's also not good form to not know the whereabouts of your eleven year old nephew on his birthday. Now, please, will you find me Mr. Potter?"

.oO-Oo.

Uncle Vernon was going to kill him. He just knew it. There was a stranger who had come, and was asking about him. He didn't know who the man was, or what he wanted, but it had to do with him. And the last time someone came asking about him, Uncle Vernon had really given it to him for telling lies about him to good society. But, really, he hadn't. He hadn't complained at all, or said a word about anything his uncle did to him. Why should he? Why should he want to tell people about what a bad person he was? He wasn't sure why his uncle thought he would. But his old teacher - one from the pre-school he never finished - had come by to talk about him. Oh, if only the man would leave, so that he could get his punishment and then it would be over! When would the man leave? He began to sob quietly into his pillow, terrified of what his uncle would do to him. Well, it wasn't really much of a pillow, but it was all he ever had, and he tried to muffle his sobs as much as possible. He knew that noise was not acceptable from people such as himself.


	2. What Happens Behind Closed Doors

Severus huffed inwardly. What was he going to do now? He needed to talk to that blasted boy, and spending the night here was out of the question. Backing down was also out of the question. But wait. He heard something. Very faint. Almost undetectable. But the house was very still, the only other sound being Vernon turning the pages of his newspaper. And as a spy and potions professor, Severus had perfected his hearing. There definitely was something. It sounded like muffled crying.

He took out his wand, without anyone noticing, and wordlessly did a point me spell for Harry. The want moved in the direction of the stairway and felt warm, indicating that he was in fact very close to the target. He couldn't help raising an eyebrow at that bit of information. Potter, close? He was supposed to be at a friend's house for his birthday. And Severus was absolutely certain that no one had entered the house since he had. Quickly he put his wand away before Vernon or Petunia would see it. He got up, intended to find what it was his wand was telling him.

"Something we can help you with?" Vernon asked.

"No, thank you," Severus said. "I was just going to find a loo upstairs." Vernon nodded. It was almost funny how quickly he spun his stories. Ah, but then, the life of a spy. He went over to the stairs, but no one was on them. He performed the spell again. It pointed to the cupboard under the stairs. Once again, he arched an eyebrow. Under the stairs? Really? What was this all about? Had Potter really been here all this time? He laid his hand on the doorknob. He was almost entranced by the silence and the mystery of the whole situation.

"What are you doing?" Petunia shrieked. Severus almost - almost - jumped. For a moment, you could detect that Severus was actually startled. How could he have left his guard down?

"I'm opening a door, if you couldn't already see that," he drawled.

"Leave that door alone!" she continued, and now Vernon was coming. Oh, horrors. Now he'd have two of them to deal with, and he needed to open this door. He didn't know what was going on, but all his internal alarms were going off as not good. In a moment, he made a decision that would change his life forever. Before Vernon could get there, his hand tightened on the doorknob and he opened the cupboard. He closed his eyes for a moment and sucked in his breath at the sight that met him.

.oO-Oo.

Why couldn't the man just go? Did he know what he was doing? Did the man know what would happen to him if he didn't leave? Well, he'd come, so it was going to happen to him anyway. He sobbed some more, still trying to muffle it as best he could. Suddenly he heard his aunt nearby.

"What are you doing?" It was the tone she used with him a lot. But it definitely wasn't aimed at him this time. She knew where he was - she had put him in there quickly when the door bell had rung - and he wasn't doing anything.

"I'm opening a door, if you couldn't see that already," the stranger's voice replied. Oh no, oh no! He wasn't going to open the door to his cupboard. He just couldn't. Maybe this was all a bad dream and he could wake himself up. He prayed the stranger would go away and leave his cupboard alone.

"Leave that door alone!" For once, he and his aunt agreed on something. But it wasn't more than a few seconds later and the door opened. Harry felt his heart sink, but still had his face buried in his poor excuse of a pillow, muffling his tears, which had increased in intensity.

.oO-Oo.

The smell of blood assaulted Severus' nose. He opened his eyes, forced them open, and took in the scene in the cupboard. The shelves were filled with cleaning agents and other household supplies. On the floor, there was an old crib bed mattress, and on the mattress a small boy lay on his stomach. Next to him there was a thin blanket, and he had his face buried in an old small pillow. The mattress, blanket and pillow were covered in blood, both old and new. The boy's shoulders shook as he cried softly. His clothes were much too big - or perhaps he was just too small - and ripped in multiple places, not to mention the atrocious stains that covered them. He wore a hoodie that fell to his knees, and a pair of jeans which were cut off at the ankles. The boy wore no shoes, but instead had socks which were crusted over with sweat and dirt.

Vaguely, in the back of his mind, Severus heard a man yelling at him to get out of the cupboard. But he took no heed. Severus had seen things like this before. He'd seen people injured and bleeding, kept in small dark cells, crying softly, because they had to express their pain someway. But that had been in the Dark Lord's service. That was what Voldemort himself did. Softly, Severus went on one knee beside the boy.

"Harry," he whispered, but there there was no response. Slowly, he reached his hand over to the black mop of hair. If the situation had been otherwise, Severus knew he would have thought some nasty comments about it. Harry was definitely James' son, and he was about to run his hand through that hair. But the situation was what it was, and as soon as his fingers touched the hair - not even the scalp - Harry stiffened and stopped crying.

"Harry," Severus tried again. "I'm here to help you." Harry just shook his head tensely, still not looking up. Severus was brought back to reality when a rough hand was placed on his shoulder. He threw it off without a second thought and stood to face Vernon, drawing his wand. Vernon backed off a step at the threatening move.

"You will leave me alone, or I will hex you into next Tuesday, so help me," he growled. "And don't try me because I will." Vernon's eyes fell on Harry, still stiff with fright, and kicked him in the much too thin thigh. Harry hissed in pain, but didn't move or cry out.

"This is your last warning, Dursley, before I do something I'll regret," Severus threatened dangerously, his magic nearly sparking off his robes with anger. He wasn't quite sure which hex or curse to choose. As an ex-Death Eater and spy, there were just so many. But it wouldn't do to get himself locked up in Azkaban over losing his temper. Thankfully, Vernon left the cupboard, but not before throwing Harry and himself a couple of nasty looks and a rude gesture. When Harry and Severus were quite alone, Severus knelt down again, putting his wand away, and picked Harry up, pressing his face against his shoulder. Harry shuttered violently, and whimpered softly, his muscles still incredibly tight.

"Shh," Severus said softly, "I won't hurt you. You'll be fine. I won't let your uncle hurt you." Harry pressed his face into Severus' robes more, pressing the world out. Harry was much too light. It felt like picking up a toddler, and Severus was very disturbed by this fact. Perhaps it didn't help that he was a very strong man. He could lift more than his own weight without much trouble. But still, an eleven year old should weigh more than this! He carried Harry into the front room which had a sofa. He laid Harry out on the sofa, and the boy curled into a ball immediately.

The front door opened and closed, and Severus looked up quickly to see. A whale of a boy, Dudley Dursley, Severus inferred, came walking - more like waddling - in. The boy didn't even notice Severus or Harry right away. Better that way.

"Mom! Dad!" Dudley called loudly. "Do you have any dessert left? I want some!" Severus shook his head sadly. Apparently Dudley was what he had expected Harry to be. Potter. Not Harry, Potter. He was not about to get involved in the whole Boy-Who-Lived story. He was not going to take on yet another abuse case. He was not about to compromise his position as a spy by associating himself with the boy who defeated the Dark Lord. But this was also Lily's child. Could he so easily abandon Lily's child? He sighed. He really wasn't abandoning him - just not getting emotionally involved. Harry was still curled in a tight ball. Severus couldn't help thinking that his chosen position was a very uncomfortable one.

"Hey, who's that?" Dudley called out. Severus narrowed his eyes, and stood between the Dursley boy and Potter.

"That is of none of your concern, Mr. Dursley," Severus said in an even but commanding tone. It was the one he used when disciplining uncooperative Gryffindors. "As it is quite late, I advise you go to bed." Dudley just blinked at him. "Now, go!" he barked after a moment.

"What's the freak doing on the couch?" he questioned suspiciously.

"I - said - go," Severus growled. "Your cousin is under my protection, and unless you wish to cross me, do as I say." Dudley squeaked something of an affirmation and scuttled up the stairs of Number Four Private Drive. Harry had begun to cry again, shortly after Dudley had arrived and noticed them.

"Everything will be alright, child," Severus murmured as he laid a gentle hand on Potter's exposed shoulder. He flinched, but otherwise did not react. "Harry? I need to see your injuries to heal them. Will you let me do that?" Harry shook his head. Severus suppressed yet another sigh. He had seen abuse, and he'd seen torture. And right now, his instincts told him this was more akin to torture than abuse. The abuse he'd seen in his Slytherins, even from Death Eater households, had so many differences from this. He pulled a potion from his robes. It was a combination pain relieving potion and dreamless sleeping potion. Apparently this was going to be his only choice in healing the boy who refused his help.

"Drink this, Harry," he said, handing him the vial, but still Harry didn't respond other than to just shake his head. "Harry," Severus tried again. "Will you at least look at me?" Another shake of the blasted mop of hair. "Fine," Severus snapped, which got him a flinch from Harry. "I'm not angry," he said more gently this time. He proceeded to spell the potion into the child. Now he only had to wait until it took effect, and then he could work on healing the boy.

In a few minutes, Harry relaxed slightly, and his breathing became more even. Severus took this as his cue to unroll Harry and begin what he had to do. Pushing his sleeves up, he placed Harry in a sitting position and began to take his clothes off carefully. His face was pale and drawn. Persperation stood out on his forehead, even though it wasn't hot in the house. As he suspected, his clothes were adhering to wounds. Severus summoned a bowl of water and a cloth, and began to try to dissolve the scabs that held the clothes in place. He did this without magic, because there was no safe spell for such a thing. Any spell he could use would leave the wounds fresh again. It was a long process, just getting Harry's hoodie off. Of course the boy didn't have anything on under the hoodie.

After several hours of painstaking work, Severus had removed the hoodie. Occasionally Harry let out a whimper in his sleep, but that was it. Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose when he saw Harry's back. It was layered with scars, and cuts at various stages of healing, with the most recent ones still seeping. Some of them were red and infected, oozing green puss. He began disinfecting and healing the wounds with a list of complex spells. Once his back was under control, Severus moved to his arms. He noticed a few scabbed over cuts there but what disturbed him more was the neat rows of scars that ran the length of both arms. They were careful to stay away from any major vessels. With all the other pain the boy was in, was he really inflicting self-harm upon himself? Severus wasn't sure, but in this case, it really didn't make sense to him. He just continued healing Harry.

In a similar method, Severus removed Harry's trousers, and healed those wounds. He was no less disturbed by those than he was on the boy's upper half. Then he began looking for broken bones. He found old broken ribs and fingers that were distorted with multiple breakages, all of which had healed wrong. One of his ankles was also broken, and he had a sprained wrist. After re-breaking and healing all of the offending bones, Severus sat down in a chair and heaved a sigh of relief. That had been a painstaking job. There was so much to do for the boy. And undoubtedly his mind was scarred as badly or worse than his back. But healing his mind would be a much longer and harder project than his body which was already hard enough.

He ran his hand over his face. There was no way he could leave Harry - Potter! - here. If for nothing else, he was certain the Dursleys would do everything in their power to harm him after he left, most probably due to his visit. There was still a few hours left on Potter's sleeping potion, and in the meantime, he would speak with the Dursleys. Getting up, he left the room, his joints stiff from strain.

.oO-Oo.

"I am taking Mr. Potter with me," Severus calmly announced to Vernon and Petunia who sat quietly watching the television.

"You have no right!" Vernon sputtered at him.

"Actually, I am well within my rights," Severus said, narrowing his eyes. Who was Vernon to talk about rights? "Albus Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts, is Mr. Potter's magical guardian, and wishes him to attend Hogwarts in the fall. In those interests, I will be seeing to his welfare. Therefore, I do, in fact, have every right." Severus hoped that Durlsey could understand all the words his used. He just grunted his acknowledgement. Severus sneered.

"Thank you for a most...eventful evening, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," he said, with a slight mocking incline of his head. "Mr. Potter and I will be leaving immediately." He turned to leave the room.

"Good riddance!" he heard Vernon call from behind him. Slowly, he turned back to face the man, crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes again.

"Trust me, Vernon, Petunia," he said, "you have not heard the last from me. No one - no one - tortures I child like this and gets away with it when I'm involved." He finished with a hiss, and with his cloak flapping behind him left the room before he did something stupid.

.oO-Oo.

He scooped Potter up into his arms, supporting his head against his shoulder, and the other arm under his knees. Harry moaned and whimpered quietly at the touch, but didn't wake. For this, Severus had his potion to thank. He apparated with a quiet pop to right outside Hogwart's wards. The night was cool, but comfortable, and Severus made sure that his cloak covered Potter sufficiently for the walk to the castle.

As a professor, Severus knew the castle almost as well as anyone there. He was used to stalking idiot Gryffindors who insisted on risking their lives over things they weren't involved in, so he had to know it well. Stupid brats, they kept thinking he was there to make their lives miserable. Well, better miserable lives than no lives at all, right? He almost smirked at the thought. Almost, because he was still very aware of the light weight he carried. He slipped through a rarely used door which led close to Minerva's offices and living quarters. It wouldn't do for anyone but her to see him carrying Potter like this. Alright, alright, it wouldn't do for anyone but her to see Potter like this period. He was healed as best as he could in a couple hours with no notice, but he still looked terrible. And Severus knew he would for some weeks to come, and he doubted he would ever look normal. No, he knew Potter would never look normal. There were things they could do, but he would always have those scars running everywhere on his body. There was nothing he could do for that.

Since his hands were full, much as it pained his dignity, he kicked at Minerva's door. In a moment he heard her call "Enter!" but just kicked again, since he couldn't open the door. He hoped she would come over and open it for him. Sure enough, she did.

"Sever- What happened?" she said. "Get in here!" She ushered him into her apartment and shut the door hastily.

"You were right, Minerva," he said. "Mr. Potter has been most horribly abused - and for a long time it seems. I had no choice but to bring him with me. Albus should know where he is - even if he has done a terrible job of seeing to the boy's safety. He will be waking up soon from the sleeping potion I gave him. I need to get him to my quarters, and settled in, before he wakes up, and I can't leave him. It will be shock enough to wake up in an unknown place, with a man he barely knows, much less with complete strangers. I need you to tell the headmaster what has happened. I will speak to him in more detail as soon as I can. And I will make the arrangements. You can tell him there will be no need to floo over or floo-call me until I have initiated contact. Until then, there is only one valid reason to disturb me - the castle itself is in danger. I trust you will deliver my messages?"

"Of course, Severus," Minerva said, her voice tight, but not faltering. "And I'll see to it that that old fool listens."

"Thank you, Minerva," he said, with a nod. "Good night."

"Will you be able to get him into your apartment?" she replied, opening the door for him.

"Yes," he said. "I can open my own doors with magic easily enough."

"Good night," she said.

"I fear it will be a long one," he sighed. "I appreciate your well wishes." He turned and left, as he slipped through the night shadows to the dungeons, carrying a small load in his arms.


	3. You're a Wizard, Harry

He had Potter settled down onto his sofa, and lit the fire. His dungeons were always cold, but this was something he would have to change as long as Potter was staying with him. Potter had absolutely no body fat so the temperature of the room was going to have to make up for that. He wondered for a moment what the overnight temperature of the Dursleys' house was. Certainly not warm enough for Potter.

Any minute Harry - Potter! - was going to wake up and undoubtedly he would have a full blown panic attack on his hands. He summoned some calming drought to have on hand the minute Harry woke up.

Blast everything! It was Potter, or Mr. Potter, but certainly not Harry! He couldn't afford to get emotionally involved. Every year, he had one or two abused Slytherins to deal with. He was a spy, and even if the public believed the Dark Lord gone for good, he and Albus knew he wasn't. They knew he would have to maintain his ambiguity until the war was finally and truly over. Pluswhich, he didn't care what happened to Potter's spawn. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that the same boy was also Lily's child. Oh, life had a cruel sense of humor! He was a cold, dark man, not the sort who Harry should have to deal with. Alright, alright, it wouldn't hurt anything to call him Harry. He could do that since there didn't seem to be any good in opposing it.

He ran his hands over his face in exasperation and sat down in an armchair near the sofa. He let his eyes run over the sleeping form. Maybe Albus would be able to take Harry's case. No, that wouldn't work. Albus didn't know anything about abuse. Severus was living proof of that. He'd just drown Harry in grandfatherly affection and sweets. Not that Harry didn't need affection - he needed it so much - but Albus would never understand. Harry would truly drown psychologically if Albus looked after him. Harry had been denied affection for so long, could Severus even understand? Was there anyone who could understand? No, Severus doubted there was. But who could understand the most? Who had the most experience with such things? Even a fool would have known that he, Severus, topped the list. It was a rare occurrence that any serious abuse was hidden in the lives of any of the other three houses. Gryffindor did a few, but that was it - a few. The only reason they ended up in Gryffindor was because they chose the route of having no self-preservation in the face of their abuse. Sometimes he still got those in Slytherin, because the hat knew that they would be better off there. But there were still a few who insisted on Gryffindor for their house. He hoped Harry wouldn't do that.

Wait, why would he even care? That would mean he would be Minerva's problem, and not his. Wasn't that what he wanted? Well, Minerva was little better than Albus in terms of abuse. Even though she had her abused lions, she tended to ignore it with them. They didn't want to talk about it, so she didn't push the issue. He did. He always forced his Slytherins to face their abuse and look it in the eye. Otherwise it would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

He didn't know what to think about Harry. Yes, he had dealt with many, many abused Slytherins. Even from Death Eater families. In many ways, especially from Death Eater families. He always did everything he could to help those children, even getting them a foster family. What had been the worst he'd seen with them? Drunkard fathers, who didn't leave much money for good food or clothes, who beat their children occasionally when they were drunk. Perhaps a Death Eater parent who used cruel methods of discipline. Maybe even the crutatious. But always for very clear and blatant violations of reasonable rules.

He sighed again. Somehow he knew that this would be a common occurrence now. He didn't have to speak to Harry or the Dursleys to know that those scars had not been placed there because of a sassy mouth or deliberate disobedience to reasonable rules. How would he ever be able to address this with Harry? When he spoke to his Slytherins about their abuse he could take a number of different approaches. he told those whose fathers were drunks that their fathers only beat them when they were no longer in control of their senses. Not that it made the crime any less, but it was not part of who they were directly. His own father had had a violent temper, and combined with his drinking habits, had made him a very unpleasant man at best and a dangerous one at worst, but his father was not sadistic. With the Death Eater children, their parents were sadistic, by and large. But they were also in full control of themselves, and were predictable. They were reasonable, even if cruel. He usually could convince the children to simply follow any rules put out by their parents and therefore avoid the abuse. While not always the best solution, he could only do so much against fellow Death Eaters before arousing suspicion against himself.

What would he be able to tell Harry? In both cases, often, the parents did love their children. Especially those from Death Eater families. Often the parents really did love their children. They were just wrong about how to handle them. Take Lucius Malfoy. As Draco's godfather, he knew that Lucius had used what he would call abusive punishments for Draco. But never for a moment would he question Lucius' love for Draco. How would he be able to explain the the depth of the hate the Dursleys had felt? Well, he didn't need to explain that. Harry knew. How would he explain that Harry didn't deserve it? It was all Harry knew.

It would be like trying to describe the color red to a person blind from birth. It just couldn't be done. Would he ever be able to show Harry how to live? He hoped - he really hoped - he would. Suddenly he felt very tired. And of course it was at this moment that Harry began to stir. Severus grabbed the calming potion and knelt on one knee beside the sofa. Suddenly his tiredness didn't matter.

Harry began to move ever so slightly as the potion wore off. Then suddenly, all at once, he stiffened, and his eyes snapped open, meeting his own, Severus', eyes. He gasped a bit, but otherwise had no reaction save unusually large eyes. Lily's eyes. Severus caught his breath when he looked into them. He saw the fear and mistrust in them, but what unnerved him even more was the acceptance. It was so startling seeing that. Lily had never had that sort of acceptance. But then, Lily was never abused like Harry had been.

"How do you feel, Harry?" Severus said, quietly, trying not to startle the boy any more than he was already. Harry shrugged and looked away.

"Can you speak?" he pressed. Harry nodded, meeting his gaze again. "Then I want you to use your voice. We need to talk about a few things, and I need you to speak to me."

"You...you won't beat me for speaking?" he whispered softly.

"No," Severus said, making an effort to keep his voice level. He could tell this was going to be a long, hard road for both of them. "I won't beat you. I won't beat you for anything. I will never beat you. I won't hurt you in any way. And I won't let anyone else hurt you either." Honestly, he was impressed Harry hadn't had a panic attack yet. It would almost have made him more comfortable if he would just have that attack. It would have been the normal thing. Was nothing about this boy going to be normal? "Do you understand?"

"No," Harry whispered slowly. Severus sighed and let his shoulders droop in exasperation. How could he understand? "I mean, yes!" Harry said quickly, judging the disappointment in his posture. "I'm sorry! I understand!" His arms curled over his head and he pulled his knees up into a protective ball. His breathing was coming quickly now, and Severus saw the panic attack coming.

"Here, drink this," Severus said. "You're not in trouble. I'm not angry. This will help you." Harry didn't uncurl, and shook his head. Severus sat on the couch next to where Harry had curled himself. Harry responded by scooting to the end, which was already quite close, and pressing himself into the corner.

"Harry," Severus said, trying to contain emotions he didn't even know the names of. "Everything will be fine. Just try to relax a little bit. Regulate your breathing. Breathe in and count to 3 and then release your breath. Count to 3 again and then inhale. Do that until you feel a bit more relaxed. Then loosen your muscles. Start with your neck and shoulders. Then move on to your arms. Now your back. Now your hips, and finally your legs." Severus could hear the ragged breathing evening out and the muscles loosening. "Now can you look at me again?" Slowly, painfully slowly, Harry uncurled, pulling his arms away from his head.

.oO-Oo.

He didn't want to do so. He didn't want to relax, and he didn't want to uncurl. Yes, sure, the man said he wasn't going to hurt him, but words were easy, and everyone he'd ever known had hurt him. The man obviously lied. Just wanted him to make it easier for him to be hurt. But his words were so calm and gentle. And he explained everything. He didn't just tell him what he wanted done, he told him how to do it. Harry felt himself doing exactly what the man said even though he didn't want to.

Who was this man? A stranger had come to Number Four Private Drive, and carried him out of his cupboard, and then he had fallen asleep. And apparently for a long time because he was not at Private Drive anymore, that much was certain. He just didn't understand. What was going on? Who was the man? Why did he pretend to care? What was his game? If the man wanted him to work, he could do that. He wasn't weak after all. Did he want to hurt him? He could live with that. But wait...

He was almost all unfolded, and he noticed that his wounds were healed. His back didn't hurt like it always did. Sure, it still hurt, but it felt like all the fresh cuts were gone. And his arms. He pushed his sleeves up a bit and saw the cuts on his arms were gone too. The scars were still there, but the cuts were gone. Then he looked at his hands, and the fingers were straight again. His middle felt good, and he could breathe normally again. He sucked in his breath and held it. He wasn't going to cry. He just couldn't cry. That was weakness, and he couldn't let the man see his weakness. He'd already seen too much.

"I see you're finding that I've healed you," the man said softly. Harry released his breath after he couldn't hold it anymore, but it came out as a sob. And after that, there were just more sobs. So he covered his face with his hands. His hands. His hands didn't have straight fingers anymore. They were supposed to be distorted. Oh, what did this man want? He rested his forehead on his knees, and didn't know what to think.

Then he felt something reach across his shoulders, and he flinched back. Or forward rather. Oh, he didn't know what was happening. He just sobbed harder. Then the touch firmed, and the man pulled him close, despite the constant flinches he gave at each move. Finally he rested under the man's arm, and the man just cradled him there.

"Shh," he said, as he began to move his hand over Harry's arm. "You can cry. It's alright to cry. I'll be here." Harry just stayed under the man's arm. There was no point in fighting it, was there? He already knew that there was no way he could ever hope the physically challenge his uncle. His uncle just weighed too much. Sure, this man wasn't nearly as big around as his uncle, but he was taller, darker, and, Harry thought, stronger. He better not fight. Or he'd be worse off than with his uncle.

Why did the man touch him? The only times he was ever touched at the Dursleys was when his uncle or Dudley had hit him. Or done worse to him. He hated being touched. Maybe this was the man's way of hurting him? But no, this was the way Uncle Vernon touched Dudley when Dudley was scared or sick. So obviously not all touching was bad. But it was for him. Why did the man touch him? Aunt Petunia had always made sure she hit him with something other than her hand because she didn't want to touch him at all.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't understand. So he cried into the man's robes. He tried to calm himself like the man had showed him. He tried to control his breathing. He breathed in odors he'd never smelled before. This man was strange. Strange and terrifying. Harry was sure he knew lots of ways to hurt people. And he was sure he had done it too. He shuttered and gave into his crying.

.oO-Oo.

Severus didn't know what to do either. He had pulled the boy close, just because it felt right at the moment, but he didn't know what to do now. His only idea was to wait until the boy wore himself out and then try to start again with him. So far, he hadn't used the calming potion. And honestly, crying wasn't the worst thing Harry could do. Alright, his robes would need a good cleaning spell after this. Tears and snot all over his robes wasn't something he intended on keeping on him very long. But it was a small price to pay. The boy needed to cry.

Harry was so thin. Severus could feel every bone under his hands. How could the Dursleys have done this to him? This wasn't feudal Europe. This was post-modern England. People didn't just starve here. There was more than enough food. How could their consciences have let them see the boy day after day, deathly thin, and yet, he was willing to wager, if he were a gambling man, that Harry didn't complain. And that if he did, there were dire consequences.

It disturbed him more than he wanted to admit that the sobs were as quiet as they were. Harry didn't seek attention with his crying. He was just crying because he couldn't hold it in. Severus could only imagine that crying was a forbidden activity for Harry, and so he did it as quietly as possible. He sighed softly, and leaned his chin on the black mop of hair, just holding him.

.oO-Oo.

It seemed like hours later, but finally Harry lifted his head from his chest. His breathing had evened out, and Severus thought that maybe he had finally run out of tears.

"Feeling better?" he asked, trying to make his face non-threatening.

"You - you made me better..." he whispered in awe.

"Of course," Severus said, patiently.

"But I can't pay you. Not with money. I don't have any." His words were coming quickly, trying to explain before the man got angry at him.

"I don't expect any money," Severus said. Well that was the worst thing he could have said. Harry face fell and his breath started coming in soft gasps. He closed his eyes, and Severus could tell he was in acute emotional pain.

"Here, drink this," Harry heard through a bleary haze in his mind. Without question, he took the vial offered to him and threw it down the back of his throat. Why fight? It wasn't worth it. The man would win anyway. He might as well save his energy for something he needed.

Severus blinked when Harry took the calming drought without question and drank it. He had expected more of an argument and was almost disappointed when Harry didn't even ask what it was. It could have been deadly poison that killed him the minute it hit his stomach. There was a little voice that whispered that maybe that was what Harry hoped it was. And he couldn't help but feel saddened and then angry at the Dursleys for doing this to the boy.

Slowly, Harry felt his sanity returning, and although he knew he should be panicking, he just couldn't remember how. The man didn't expect any money. So he expected something else. And he felt fear clawing at his stomach, or what was left of it.

"You don't need to give me any money," Severus assured him, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. He thought he was proven wrong when Harry stiffened, but really, it was only the words. "I don't need the money," he continued, still trying to explain. "I have plenty."

"But then I'll still owe you," Harry said, trying to explain in kind. "You healed me, and I need to pay you somehow."

"No, you don't," Severus said, slightly more forcefully this time. "I don't need any payment. I just wanted to help you. I don't want anything."

"Uncle Vernon always made me pay him if I needed medicine," he whispered softly, barely audibly, as he looked at his dirty sock-covered feet and played with them nervously.

"I'm not your uncle," Severus said simply. "How did your uncle make you pay if you didn't have any money?" Harry just hissed nervously in reply.

"Who are you?" he choked out. Well, Severus let this change of topic go. Now was not the time to push the boy.

"I'm Severus Snape. You are at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, and I am a Professor at this school. I teach potions. You are in my care, and under my protection, and I will make sure nothing bad happens to you."

"You mean - you teach magic?" Harry's eyes were at the biggest they had been yet.

"Yes," Severus said. "This is a school for magic. You're a wizard, Harry."

"I always knew there was something wrong with me," he muttered. "That's why they called me a freak. I did these strange things," he suddenly admitted, not knowing why. Why should he tell the man about the strange things he did? That would make the man just hurt him like his relatives had done. "And when I did them, they would punish me." Harry shuttered at some memory, and looked like he was expecting to be struck for even speaking of his accidental magic.

Severus didn't need to ask who they were. And he didn't dare ask what had happened. Not yet, anyway. Later, he would make Harry face it, but not now.

"You did what any normal wizard does, Harry," Severus said. "It's called accidental magic, and it's like growing teeth, or saying your first words. You start showing magic as you grow up, and wizard parents are very proud of their children when they first start showing magic. It was wrong of your relatives to punish you for it. It's only natural." Severus touched Harry's chin and brought his gaze to meet his own. "I don't expect you to understand it yet. But it's true. Your relatives were wrong. And I'll say it as much as I have to, until you understand. Someday, you'll understand." He let go of Harry's chin and wrapped both arms around him, pressing him close.

So much for no emotional involvement. That idea was long gone. Well, it never was really there, Severus realized. He had been involved from the beginning, just unwilling to acknowledge it until now. He ran his hands over Harry's back, feeling every vertebrae, touching every rib, horror running through him, and in a few minutes Harry had fallen asleep against him.

Severus gently laid Harry's form on the sofa, and grabbed some floo powder.

"Headmaster's office!" he whispered urgently and threw the power.


	4. Owe No Man Anything

"Albus! You meddling old coot! You're an old fool! Where do you keep your brains?" was Severus' greeting as he stepped out of the flames. He stepped towards the desk where Albus was sitting and placed his hands on the desk, leaning over into his face.

"What's wrong now, Severus?" Albus replied, sounding tired and annoyed. Of course he knew why Severus was here. That was why he was here at this ungodly hour of the morning.

"Don't give me that," Severus hissed, still furious with this old man. "Did you ever have anyone check on Potter?" Albus blinked, stupidly, Severus thought, at him for a moment. Albus had hoped that Severus would be calmer, and more reasonable, but really, he shouldn't have been surprised that Severus got right to the point. He always did.

"Of course I have," Albus said, sounding confused. "Arabella lives next door. Why do you suddenly care, Severus?"

"What has Arabella been telling you?" he still hissed. Well, Severus was really not in a good mood. He looked like he was ready to hex Dumbledore into next year. Alright, he was ready to hex Dumbledore into next year. Who was he trying to fool? His trust in the man had been shattered as soon as he saw Harry lying on the floor of his cupboard. Things were not all as they seemed. Harry wasn't a spoiled brat - far from it. And Albus wasn't the kindly old grandfather - far from it, apparently.

"She made mention that Harry and her cats got along quite well. She also told me that Harry was kind and gentle, always respectful and quiet," Albus said. Severus snorted.

"Of course he would be," he sneered.

"Stem the sarcasm, Severus," Albus snapped. It was Severus' turn to blink. Well, maybe his tone could have been mistaken for sarcasm. But it wasn't intended that way. And it wasn't often that Albus snapped at him either. Usually he thought that he was quite funny. Why, Severus would never know, but the old Gryffindor apparently didn't value his life enough to ever take him seriously.

"It wasn't sarcasm!" he growled. "Of course Harry would be kind, gentle, respectful and quiet! Was that all Arabella told you? And don't you dare lie to me, Headmaster." He narrowed his eyes, which threatened to bore holes into Albus' soul. Albus leaned back into his chair. How was he going to make Severus see it? He knew the man didn't believe in the greater good. He was too narrow-minded for such a broad principle.

"She told me other things, yes, Severus," he said, sighing.

"What sort of other things?" Severus pressed.

"She said Harry was abused," he finally admitted. Severus snorted again. That apparently wasn't even the half of it, judging by Harry's condition when he found him. "She said that they didn't feed him enough, and that she heard yelling and screams often at night."

"And you did nothing," Severus whispered, a deadly whisper. It wasn't a question, and he didn't say it like a question.

"Of course, I couldn't," Albus had the audacity to reply.

"Do not tell me that," Severus whispered again, white with fury. "I've been to Private Drive, and I've collected Harry, as Minerva already told you. Do you realize how I found him? He lying on the floor of a cupboard, in his own blood, with broken bones, and his back was littered with the records of beatings. Beating after beating. He's a shadow of a boy, Headmaster. He's been starved, and you don't have know anything to see it. And he's scared. He's terrified. He's in my rooms now, sleeping, and don't you dare try to contact him. I'll set my wards so that if you do, you will fried to a crisp. I do not make idle threats, and you know that, so you would do well to stay away. What is it that makes you think that this torture of a child is justified?"

"I don't think you should go so far as to say torture, my boy," Albus said, shaking his head a bit.

"I do, and I will. I have never seen anything like this in any of my abused Slytherins. I've only seen this sort of thing in one place, and that is with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. It is torture, and I don't know the extent of it. And I am not your boy."

"Call it what you will. Harry needs to stay with the blood wards."

"He will not. Protecting him from Death Eaters does no good if his relatives kill him instead. Your blood wards are useless."

"He also needs to stay with them because he can't know a life of pleasure," Albus sighed. Severus felt that they were getting into the real reasons now.

"What do you mean?"

"If he lives a comfortable life, he won't be able to fight Voldemort. He must live a hard life, he must know suffering so that he can fight. I don't like it any more than you do."

"Your plan has backfired, I will tell you that. There is no way that Harry will be able to fight anyone. He accepts what happens to him, and he doesn't fight anything. His relatives taught him that fighting only makes things worse. Why should he fight the Dark Lord? Your...weapon," Severus spat the word, "has been broken. I don't know everything the Dursleys did to him, but he isn't going to fight the Dark Lord. He can't, and he won't. Why should he? The Muggle world has tortured him, and the wizarding world has abandoned him. Is there anything left that he would want to defend?"

"It wasn't meant to happen this way," Albus sighed. "I'm sure you can pull him around, and make everything work out."

"I will not," he hissed. "I will not play your stupid little game anymore, and I won't let you use Lily's child!"

"But you will help Harry?"

"Of course. There is no reason why he should suffer any more for your sins. And it is because of that, that I will not raise him to be your weapon."

"You realize, of course, that I'm still his magical guardian," Albus said.

"Are you threatening me, Headmaster?"

"Perhaps," Albus said. "But remember, you said it. Do you feel I should threaten you?"

"I'll strike a deal with you," Severus said. "I will remain your spy as long as I can - I will continue to play your game - as long as you leave Harry out of it. I have never asked for anything in all my years as your spy. Grant me this one request as payment for all the years I have worked for you and all the years in the future."

"Alright," Albus agreed. "For the time being. As long as you continue as my spy, you may see to Harry." Severus nodded curtly, and flooed back to his rooms without dismissal and without a good-bye.

.oO-Oo.

He stepped out of the fireplace and immediately looked at the couch. It was empty. Cold fear clawed at Severus. He hadn't updated his wards against Albus yet. Had the old fool tricked him and taken Harry already? He cast a spell, and it told him that no one had entered or left his rooms since himself for the Headmaster's office. He began to glance around the room, and his eyes fell on a small form.

In the farthest corner, Harry lay curled into his protective ball, his eyes screwed firmly shut. He lay perfectly still, but Severus knew he was awake. His eyes were so tight that Harry couldn't be sleeping. Severus stepped quietly over to him, and squatted down.

"Harry?" he whispered. "Are you alright?" That was such a stupid question. Was he alright? Of course he wasn't! He wouldn't be alright for weeks, months, probably years. Would he ever be alright? It was an outcome that Severus knew he might have to face. He might not be able to help Harry. It was a startling thought, one that he didn't want to have to acknowledge - that he could fail. Maybe there would be no answer. Well, he would have to believe there was. But then, Harry nodded at him. Stupid boy! No, he was just trying to protect himself. He wasn't being stupid. Severus was convinced that Harry believed that if he admitted to not being alright, he would be punished somehow. Well, Severus couldn't let this go on. He sat down next to Harry and pulled his own knees up to his chest.

"Why are you on the floor?" he asked, trying to sound reasonable.

"Because that's where I belong," Harry whispered back.

"Oh, come here, child," Severus sighed, and grabbed Harry up under his arm. Harry was sitting on this thigh now, as Severus brought him close. Harry buried his face into his robes. Blast! He hadn't changed his robes to see the Headmaster. Well, it would mean that he wouldn't have to clean two sets of robes. But Harry wasn't crying now. Just hiding.

Severus had one arm around the thin body, and the other hand crept over to his hair, and he began to stroke it gently. Harry was just stiff. He didn't even flinch under the touch.

"Well," Severus finally said. "If you want to sleep on the floor, that's fine. But then I'll sleep on the floor with you." Well that got a reaction from Harry. He pulled his face from his robes and looked up, terrified, at Severus' expression as he looked down.

"But you have a bed, don't you?" Harry fairly squeaked.

"Of course I do," Severus said. "But if you belong on the floor, then so do I."

"No, you don't!" Harry contradicted. Under usual circumstances, he would have been exceedingly frustrated to see a child so openly contradict him. But with Harry, it meant that there still was a little bit of will left somewhere. He would just have to learn to reach it, and make it grow. He had a chance with the child.

.oO-Oo.

How could this man be so foolish? He wanted to sleep on the floor when he had a bed of his own? What was this man thinking? He didn't want to make the man uncomfortable, and he knew sleeping on the floor was uncomfortable. If he made the man uncomfortable, what would the man do to him? After all, this man was scary. This man, he was sure, knew more ways to punish him than his aunt and uncle. He would have to stay on the man's good side, or he would be paying for it later, that he knew.

"You can't sleep on the floor," he said. Didn't this man understand? He was supposed to sleep on the floor. He was just a freak, and that was all he deserved. In fact, that was more than he deserved. But this man was powerful, and he shouldn't be sleeping on the floor. "You just can't. It's not right for you."

"But it's right for you?" the man asked.

"Yes," Harry said definitively.

"Why is it right for you but not for me?"

"Because I'm a freak," he stated, calmly. Much too calmly for Severus' liking. "And because you're an adult. And because I'm weak." Surely the man already knew these things. He'd seen his weakness when he cried like a baby, and he'd told him about his freakishness, and the man knew he was an adult. But then man just pulled him closer after he said that. In fact, the man pushed his knees down and pulled him into his lap, and let him lean against his chest. Harry could feel Severus' heart beat, and he found it strangely comforting.

"You're not a freak, and you aren't weak, either," Severus said into his ear. "Harry, explain to me why you think you're a freak." The man was running his hands through his hair. He was pulling out some knots, but other than that, it felt so good. No one had ever wanted to touch him like this before, but this man seemed to like it.

"Because I do strange things," he started explaining. "And my parents were freaks. If my parents were freaks then I will be a freak."

"I knew your parents, Harry," Severus said, still stroking the boy. "And they were not freaks. They were both good people." Blast, he was calling James Potter a good person! This had to be a dream. "Your aunt called your parents freaks because they were magical. Your father was a wizard and your mother was a witch. So yes, you are a wizard too. But that doesn't make you a freak. I'm a wizard too, Harry." The man pulled his chin up so he had to look at the man. "Does that make me a freak?"

"No, sir," Harry said. "But you're an adult and I'm weak."

"I'm an adult, yes, but that means that I should protect you and take care of you," Severus said. "The same rules should apply to us." Oh, surely the man wasn't that stupid!

"Dudley - my cousin -," Harry began, "always asked Uncle Vernon about driving the car. Uncle Vernon said that he was allowed to drive the car because he was an adult, but Dudley wasn't because he was still a child. Do you think Dudley should be able to drive the car?"

.oO-Oo.

Severus sighed. Why did the boy have to be so blasted clever? How was he going to refute this one? He felt his heart breaking at the cold logic Harry was using. Much as he wanted the children to think, Harry was too far ahead of the game.

"Oh, Harry," he gasped, and pulled Harry close again, and began rocking back and forth, pressing Harry's head to his chest. "It's not like that. Some rules are different, but some are the same. You deserve a bed, and you deserve food, and you deserve decent clothes. You deserve them because you exist. And it doesn't matter what age you are, or whether you're a wizard or not, or how strong you are. And you are strong. Trust me, you are strong. I've seen a lot of things, Harry, things that are horrible. I've seen evil things. And I've seen adult men, who have endured less than you have, beg for it to stop."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Harry basking in the attention, and Severus not knowing what to do, except to hold Harry close and run his fingers through the boy's hair.

"Will you sleep in a bed now?" Severus asked quietly. Harry shook his head and shuttered.

"Please, no," he whispered, low and scared, begging, and Severus felt his heart break the rest of the way. "Please don't make me."

"I won't," Severus said. He didn't voice the "yet" that he thought. If Harry was that opposed to sleeping in a bed, well, he wasn't going to force him. Yet. Shoot, he didn't know where to start with Harry! There was so much to fix, and so little time. "But will you at least sleep on the sofa?" Harry nodded, as he hid his face deeper into Severus' robes. Well at least that was something. Perhaps they were already making progress.

"What do you want me to do in return?" Harry asked. Severus just stopped his rocking suddenly, and didn't know what the question meant. He gripped Harry by his thin shoulders and looked at him, still settled on his lap. Oh, this was such an embarrassing situation, and his reputation would be ruined! But it was worth it, Severus knew.

"I don't understand," Severus said simply. Perhaps honesty would work the best in this situation, even if it was humiliating to think that he didn't understand what surely should have been a simple question.

"Do you want me to do chores for sleeping on the sofa?" Harry explained. "I'll try to do my best with whatever you want. I can do a lot of chores." The blasted boy almost sounded proud of himself.

"I don't want anything from you," Severus said evenly, though inwardly cursing the Dursleys. "I don't want money for healing you, and I don't want you to work for me. You don't owe me anything. Do you understand?" Harry nodded, but Severus knew that Harry only gave the answer that he thought that he - Severus - wanted to hear. Severus scooped him up and carried him back to the sofa, laying him down on it.

"I want you to sleep if you can," Severus said. "It's late. It's the middle of the night. You don't have to get up early - as I'm sure you've had to before. I don't expect you to do anything, so you may sleep as long as you like. I will be in another room. I want you to come and get me if there is any problem whatsoever. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, and it doesn't matter what the problem is." Harry just looked at him blankly with big, green eyes. Severus ran his hand over Harry's head once more, and knew that his instructions were in vain. Harry would not seek out help no matter what went wrong, no matter what happened. "Now, sleep, child." He moved his hand over Harry's eyes, and Harry curled into his ball again, not moving a muscle.

.oO-Oo.

So the man wanted him on the couch. Well, it was better than a bed. He didn't want to think about that. And he was glad that this man - Snape - hadn't made him sleep in a bed. But still, a sofa was too much for him. It was more than he should be getting from anyone. He wasn't worth it. But Snape had made it clear that he wanted him to sleep on the sofa. Snape had said that he didn't owe him anything, but Harry knew that wasn't true. Oh, he owed this man so much. He would never be able to pay it back.

His uncle had showed him a scale once. It balanced things, and if you put more on one said than another, the little plates would become uneven. Uncle Vernon had explained that life was like these scales, and that everything needed to balance out in the end. And this was why he - Harry - had to pay for the things he got, so that he could keep the scales even. Harry knew that the scales measuring his life were very much not even right now. And he would have to work for years to get them even again.

He knew that Snape wouldn't let him sleep on the sofa forever. Soon Snape would see that he wasn't worth his couch, and he would be back in a cupboard where he belonged. It was so strange sleeping in an exposed area like this. He felt vulnerable. In his cupboard, there was only one door, and he could always know if someone was coming in. Here, Snape could come up from behind him. He wanted his cupboard back. He wanted the life he understood. Maybe it was uncomfortable, and maybe he didn't like it, but he understood it. And right now, that was all he wanted, was to understand.

Alright, he also wanted some food. But he knew he'd have to earn that. Food was expensive. He would earn it tomorrow.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived in a Cupboard, fell asleep.

.oO-Oo.

Severus left the room for a moment, and then came back with a blanket. He laid it over Harry, tucking it in. The boy was too thin and would freeze left without a blanket in the dungeons, even if it was the middle of summer. And so he left the fire blazing.

"What will I ever do with you, child?" Severus whispered, knowing Harry had fallen asleep. "What can I do to make you see?"


	5. No Man Is An Island

"You little freak! I'm going to beat the magic out of you if it's the last thing I do! I don't want a freak for a son! It's bad enough that your mother is!"

He felt blows on his rolled up form, and they were coming furiously. He began to choke back sobs. He was sorry for being magical. He really was. He wished his father could see that. How could he make his father understand? There had to be a way. There was always a way.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say, between the blows and the sobs.

"Then you'll stop all this 'accidental magic' and you'll stop hoping to go to that bloody school!" His father was on another of his drunken tirades, and Severus knew the only respite would be his father tiring out.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed again. His father landed a blow on the side of his head, and his skull cracked loudly against the floor as he fell the short remaining way to the floor.

.oO-Oo.

"Please, please, I'm sorry, please stop," he begged. "I'm sorry!"

But his uncle continued to beat him with his belt. He felt every blow, stinging and cutting. And then the ropes were cutting into his wrists. Yes, he had ropes tied around his wrists, with a rope going to the ceiling. It was carefully measured, so that if he stood upright, exposing his back, his toes would touch the basement floor. But as soon as he tried to curl up, the ropes would cut him again and he would feel his elbow and shoulder joints pull apart at his body weight, meager though it was. So he put his feet back down on the floor, knowing that in a moment, he would pull them back up.

"I've told you not to whine," his uncle hissed in his ear, and he closed his eyes tighter at the sound, swallowing hard. He knew he wasn't supposed to complain. It just came out of his mouth sometimes anyway. He let out a shuttering breath. He was sorry. He really was. Even if he couldn't quite remember what it was he had done this time.

The belt landed again, and up went his knees. It was just instinctive for him to try to make ball. And his uncle had taken that last security away. He felt a scream making its way up his throat. It was working its way out even though he tried to suppress it. It started as a moan, and then, an indistinct amount of time later, he cut loose with a full scream. Tears were streaming down his face.

"That'll be fifteen more for your bloody scream," his uncle snarled, and he let his head fall to his chest.

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat up in his bed and drew his wand instinctively. Realizing it was only a dream, and slowly relaxed and fell back into his pillows. He hadn't had a dream like that in months. Well, he hadn't dealt with an abused child in a few months. The abuse cases he dealt with always brought those dreams. Undoubtedly Harry's condition had brought those memories back. Every time he took on an abused child, it made him feel vulnerable. He wasn't quite sure why, but he knew he felt that way. Perhaps it was because he was afraid of making a mistake? One misplaced word, and a child could be lost forever.

He knew that Harry's life made his father look kind and compassionate. Much as he still hated what his father had done to him, he sent up a grateful thought that his father had been no worse than he was.

He looked over at his enchanted clock and it showed him that it was just past 6:30 in the morning. He doubted that after a dream like that, and knowing that Harry was just a room over, he would get back to sleep. He could survive on two or three hours of sleep for one night. It wasn't like he had to teach class today. He would just have to be very careful with his temper to make sure none of it showed in front of Harry.

Speaking of which, or thinking rather, Severus decided to go check on the boy. So he swung his feet out of bed and into a pair of slippers. He walked silently into the living room, where he looked over the back of the couch.

Harry was still there, which was a good thing. But Harry's sleep was restless. He thrashed around and began to whimper. Certainly a nightmare. Severus rounded the sofa and knelt down beside Harry.

"Harry!" he said, not daring to touch him. "Wake up!" But there was no response. At least not to him. Whatever horrors were happening in the nightmare, Harry let out a blood-curdling scream, and his eyes snapped open. The hair on the back of Severus' neck stood up, and he raised his hands in a sign of peace.

"I'm sorry to startle you," he said. "You were having a nightmare, and I tried to wake you up." Harry just sat up and looked at him with wide, scared eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow. Probably a combination of the nightmare and fear of himself, Severus thought.

"You can try to go back to sleep if you want," Severus offered. If he wasn't going back to sleep after a nightmare, then he surely wasn't going to make Harry. Harry just shook his head, griping the blanket till his fingers turned white.

"Then you can come into the kitchen for breakfast," Severus said, standing up. Harry jumped so fast from the sofa, he startled Severus. "Whoa, whoa," Severus said, so off guard that his usual eloquence was disturbed. He reached out to touch Harry's shoulder without thinking. Harry flinched back, but let the touch be. Of course he would, Severus mentally huffed, partially at Harry, but mostly at his own stupidity. As much as the boy probably - well no probably about it, did - hate being touched, he also knew better than to make it hard on someone who did.

"You can take your time," Severus said. "If you're concerned about fixing breakfast, you won't be doing that here." He could only imagine that Harry had to make the meals at the Dursleys. Harry just looked startled and scared.

"Come along," Severus said, for the moment ignoring the fact that Harry trailed some distance behind him.

.oO-Oo.

"You may sit down," Severus said, taking his own seat at the small table in his kitchen. He gestured to the seat across from him. Harry eyed him warily and sat down.

The man - Snape - had seen his nightmare. And he hadn't beaten him yet for it. When was he going to? Harry's stomach, although quite empty, still felt like he was going to lose something all over the kitchen floor. And then he told him - the freak - to sit down. At the table! With him! It had to be a trick of some sort. He remembered all the tricks his uncle had pulled on him. Letting him do something that he really wanted to do, only to smack him or worse when he did it, asking him if he was really so foolish that he would believe he would be allowed it. Maybe Snape liked playing those sort of tricks too. He felt like crying under the strain of it all.

But no blow came as he gingerly sat down on the edge of the chair, still watching Snape's hands carefully.

.oO-Oo.

Severus suspected that Harry might be fearing being hit at the moment. So he was careful to use slow and guarded movements, always letting Harry see his hands.

"I'll go get some food," Severus said, and got up slowly. "Please use the chair while I am away." It wouldn't do to have Harry sitting on the floor when he got back. He'd learned that much from the couch incident last night.

So Harry sat, rigid, in the chair until Severus came back. Severus concluded that having his house elf pop the food on the table, he would better get it from his elf personally. Such a display of magic would unsettle poor Harry to no end, and an acceptance of magic was not his first priority right now. No, he was doing to start working on the boy's eating habits, which were obviously less than acceptable. He knew this was going to be a particularly difficult battle, so he had better start it early.

His personal house elf left to him from the Prince estate, Nitty, was an old elf. Severus hadn't had the heart to keep Nitty as a slave to him. He'd freed her immediately upon the inheritance, but Nitty had been committed to him, and stayed on. He was happy to have the help, to not have to worry about meals or laundry, but he made sure that Nitty was also comfortable and got whatever she needed or even wanted. He might put on a cruel and indifferent mask, but he wasn't to be cruel to his elf just because he had to play the role of a spy.

Severus set bowls of hot rice cereal down in front of himself and Harry. Rice was easy to digest, and so he was going to feed Harry a lot of rice until he was sure that Harry's stomach would be up to more. He, Severus, wasn't going to eat any differently than Harry, even if he did hate the rice cereal. It was a small price to pay. If Harry needed something specific in his diet, then Harry would also see him eating it. He also brought some milk and glasses. Harry just looked from the cereal to his face, and then back to the cereal. He looked defeated, Severus couldn't help observing.

"Are you waiting for something?" he said, gently. Good! He hadn't snapped the question out like he normally would have. He wanted to find out as much as he could about Harry's background, even though he knew it would turn his stomach to hear it. He needed the information to know how to handle Harry. He saw Harry swallow nervously.

"I don't know what you want me to do," Harry said, and Severus knew that was probably the most truthful thing Harry had told him.

"I would like you to eat something, Harry. You're much too thin. Your relatives starved you, I'm sure, and I will not do the same. I will never, ever withhold food from you. And I will see to it that no one else does either. You will be able to eat as much as you like, whenever you like." Harry just sat there and blinked a bit, but otherwise there was no reaction.

"Are there any other problems?" Severus questioned again. He was still staying very calm, and honestly, he was quite pleased with how even his temper was.

"I should wait until you're finished," Harry blurted out, and pushed the bowl away slightly, getting up and stumbling, all at once. Harry felt hot tears coming to his eyes and wanted to turn away before the man saw them. He darted over to a corner in the kitchen and sat down, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his torso. He put his forehead on his knees and rocked slightly. Severus sighed.

Severus picked up both bowls of rice cereal, and sat down next to Harry.

"Here," he said, causing Harry to pick up his head. "I want you to take the bowl and eat the rice cereal in it. Is it alright if I eat mine with you down here?"

"No, sir," Harry said, quietly. "I - I just can't - " And then he stopped, looking up at Severus with pleading eyes.

"You can't what?" Severus prompted.

"I can't eat at the table," he whispered. "I'm not good enough for that. I know my place." Severus nodded.

"Then we will do it like we did last night. I will sit with you here, until you eat, or until you come to the table. I won't eat until you do. You need to eat, Harry. There's nothing left of you. I want you to eat."

"Can't," Harry muttered.

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't earned it yet," he said, putting his forehead back on his knees, feeling absolutely miserable. "Food is expensive, and I can't let anyone have to pay to keep me. I need to earn my keep."

"This food is free," Severus said. "Remember I said we were at a school? The school provides the food. And even if I bought it, I still want you to eat. You don't have to earn it."

"There's no such this as free." Those weren't Harry's words. Those were words that had been beaten into him over years. What eleven year old would question something that was free? If only they would question it when a man would tell them he had free candy for them if they only got in his car.

"Who told you that?" Severus asked, already knowing the answer.

"My uncle. He said that everything needs to be paid for somehow, even if it's not in money."

"But that doesn't mean that you have to pay for it. All you have to do is eat it." There was no reply for a few seconds. Then Harry let out a heart wrenching sob.

"When will you punish me?" he asked.

"For what?" Severus asked, truly confused. What did Harry think he'd done now?

"I woke you up with my nightmare," he said.

"No, you didn't," Severus contradicted and set the bowls of cereal aside. He reached over and brought Harry into his lap again, just like he had done last night. "I woke up because I had a nightmare." Harry stopped crying and went stiff. "Yes, I have nightmares too. My nightmares are terrible, but I'm sure they're not nearly as bad as yours. It can help to talk about them, Harry. Do you want to tell me about your dream?"

"No, sir," Harry said, decisively, and then he began to cry again. Oh, this boy. He was such a puzzle. He thought with the cold logic of an adult, and cried with the maturity of a toddler. He was such a contradiction sometimes. Severus ran circles over Harry's back, trying to sooth him. He remembered his mother doing just that for him when he was upset, and knew it helped immensely. Or perhaps he was doing it to calm himself. Slowly, Harry calmed down, and his sobs came father apart.

"Harry, I would like to hear about your dream," he said, still being very gentle. "Will you tell me?"

"It was nothing," Harry said. "I have those dreams every night."

"All the more reason why you need to talk about them," Severus said.

"Do you talk to someone about your nightmares?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes and searching Severus' face. Severus was taken aback by the cleverness of the question.

"No," he answered slowly. "But I will, if you will tell me about your dreams. I promise I will. You're very right, it probably would be good for me." He had never thought to talk to someone about his own nightmares. The clarity of this child's thoughts was startling. "Thank you." Perhaps he could finally break free of his nightmares, even if he hated the thought of telling anyone about his dreams. His dreams and what happened in them were very private. Blast it, this boy was turning his life upside down! Harry looked surprised at the thank you. "Now will you please tell me about your dream? I will see someone after breakfast about my own."

"It was just about my uncle," Harry whispered.

"What did your uncle do?"

"He beat me," and Harry's voice dropped to being almost non-audible. Silent tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"I see," Severus said, stroking Harry's head. "Did you know why?"

"No," Harry said. "Not in the dream. There must have been something though."

"Like what?"

"Anything. I do lots of bad things."

"What was the beating like?" He felt like a psychologist right now, asking these questions. He just needed Harry to acknowledge his dream. And talking about it was the fastest way to do that. Harry shuttered violently.

"The usual," Harry shrugged.

"If you want, you can show me your dream. I can go into your mind so that you can just show me. I promise I won't look at anything other than what you should me. You will feel my mind, but it won't hurt. I promise." Well, legillimens worked the same psychologically as talking did. He could understand how it might be hard for Harry to put it into words. "Will you let me?" There was a moment's hesitation, but Harry nodded. Severus couldn't help feeling that Harry nodded because he was afraid of punishment, and he was right. Severus brought Harry close to his chest and silently cast legillimens.

He was unprepared for the onslaught of emotions. Terror, despair, misery, fear, depression threatened to overwhelm him, but also, love. Somehow, Harry's ability to love had survived. And Severus knew this to be good. If Harry could still love, perhaps he could bring Harry around. The only problem was that in Harry's mind, anything he loved he had to push away. Harry believed that anything he loved, he needed to leave alone. So for Harry, love was a very negative part of his will. What had formed his understanding of love to be so negative? Surely, he had seen love, or at least a twisted version of it, because the Dursley boy surely had not been neglected. He would have understood if the boy had held hatred in his feelings which was showing. But there wasn't any hatred, except of self. But no, his love was negative, and Severus hoped that he would still be able to work with this.

Oh, Dumbledore and the Dursleys would pay! He felt his sorrow increase as he waded through the storm of emotions. Finally, they cleared enough that Severus could see Harry's dream, and if he had eaten breakfast already, he knew he would have vomited.

He had been right. His father had been a puppy compared to this. Severus caught his breath several times to keep his emotions under control. Harry's emotions were assaulting his mind with strength rarely seen. He was crying out for someone to love him, even if Harry himself didn't know it. Severus rested his head back against the wall, in his own silent agony, which he was careful to hide behind his occlemency shields. He knew this sort of beating. The Dark Lord had used something similar. Of course there had been magic involved then, but the principle was the same. How could anyone do this to a child? After finishing the dream, Severus retreated from Harry's mind.

"I'm sorry," Severus whispered, wrapping Harry close to him. What could he say? What could he say to a child who had suffered through that? There weren't words to express what he felt, and it was when hell froze over that Severus Snape didn't have words. The silent tears continued to roll down Harry's face.

"I need you to eat though," he said, pressing a bowl to Harry's hands, which accepted it. "Please eat." Harry began to move the spoon from the bowl to his mouth, but there was a glassy look in his eyes, a vacant look, and Severus knew that Harry was operating on impulse. The pain of showing him the dream had been so much that Harry had retreated within himself. Severus hoped he had made the right choice in encouraging the child to show him the dream. Nothing was going to be normal about this whole situation. Any experience he'd had previously with abuse, even his own, looked pitiful compared to this. Halfway through the bowl, Harry stopped, and almost seemed to wake up from whatever had happened to cause that expression. He flushed.

"Have you eaten all you can?" Severus asked. Harry nodded. "Very well. You should go back to sleep. You only had a couple hours sleep. I will give you something that will keep the dreams away," he added when he noticed the panic rise in Harry's eyes. He calmed down a bit.

After laying Harry out on the couch again, Severus gave him a dreamless sleep potion, which Harry drank readily. In a few minutes, he was sleeping peacefully. Severus laid out the blanket over him, tucking him in again. He gazed at Harry, his mind replaying the dream he had seen. It turned his stomach to think of it. He knew it would be burned into his memory for the rest of the day, tormenting him. Yet he would willingly suffer that and worse to help Harry, he knew.

He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. If only he had taken it upon himself to visit the Dursleys earlier! Why had it taken Minerva verbally pinning him in a corner for him to do it? He should have checked on Lily's child despite the unjust hate he felt for a dead man. He felt responsible for every bit of pain Harry had every experienced at the hands of the Dursleys, and that was quite a lot. A lot of pain, and a lot of responsibility. He swore he would make it up to the boy, not matter what. He owed it to Harry.

Severus closed his eyes, and tried to drive Harry's dream away. It was haunting his mind, and he was certain that he would have to talk to someone himself, if not because of the promise he'd made, but because of his own sanity.

.oO-Oo.

After having changed into clean robes, and eating the now cold rice cereal, (yes, he still ate it, even if Harry wasn't there to watch, just out of a sense of justice,) he walked to Minerva's office and knocked, awaiting her response. She opened the door to him, and after meeting her gaze, he looked at the floor, feeling like the little school boy he used to be, coming to her office with his problems like he had done so many years ago. And apparently Minerva saw the resemblance as well.

"Come in, Severus," she said gently.

"Thank you, Minerva," he replied, not in his usual gruff manner, but in the same voice he used when he had sought her help in years past. He stepped into her office, stood in the middle of the room, still finding the carpet very interesting, but in a dignified stance, all the same, with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Have a seat," Minerva said, motioning him to an armchair. "Would you like any tea?" Severus sat down, an unusual thing in itself.

"No, thank you," he said. "I need to speak with someone, and I do not trust Albus anymore with anymore more sensitive than my students' report cards." He tried to laugh a bit. "And I thought that perhaps you would be willing to listen, like you did a long time ago?" He looked up at her, as she came and sat across from him.

"Of course," she said. "It has to do with Harry."

"Only sort of," he said. "I promised him that I would speak to someone about my nightmares." Minerva looked like she was about to choke on something, and Severus smirked at her. Alright, he was going to enjoy this as much as he could.

"Alright?" Minerva replied after a moment of gathering herself.

"Harry had had a nightmare, and for some reason I mentioned that I had them too, and, stupidly, two sentences later said that talking about them was helpful, and the idiot brat turned that on me," he explained, answering Minerva's unasked question. She smiled, almost triumphantly, at him.

"And so you've come to fulfill your promise," she concluded. "I will keep everything you say under the confidentiality that I always kept conversations like this. What are your nightmares about?" She knew it would be easier for Severus if she gave him a place to start.

"My father," he said. "Every time I deal with an abuse case the dreams return. They are all memories of incidents with him. Honestly, they aren't that serious."

"Perhaps they are more telling than you are willing to admit," Minerva said, looking thoughtful and concerned. "You haven't had any closure with your abuse yet. Your father killed himself in a drunken haze, didn't he?" Severus nodded. "You never had a chance to speak to him about it. Whether in an angry rant when you were safe from his anger, or speak with him rationally. Something needs to happen to bring you that closure and then you won't have the nightmares that much anymore." Severus nodded. Minerva already knew too many details of what his abuse had entailed to need to ask detailed questions about the dream. She already knew.

"I don't know how I can ever have that closure," he said, equally thoughtful. "It's not like I can bring him back from the dead to talk to him. Not that I would if I could."

"Perhaps Harry will be that closure," she suggested. "You care about him deeply, and helping him may help you as well. The two of you can help each other."


	6. Snape's First Mistakes

Harry woke up, and slipped off the couch, clutching the blanket to his chest fearfully. The room was very quiet. He had slept peacefully, without nightmares, just as Snape had promised. He felt a sob tear at his chest. Snape had seen his dream. Snape knew what a horrible boy he was. His uncle had often told him how he couldn't get anything right, and it seemed he had just failed again, letting Snape see that. He had been given a chance to start again, and he just kept messing it up. Showing Snape his weaknesses, and how bad he was. It couldn't be good.

But Snape had asked to see his nightmare. And if he hadn't shown Snape, he would have been punished. It was just the reality of the situation, Harry supposed, that since he was that bad, he would have to show people that sort of thing.

The whole experience had been very strange. Snape - this man, this wizard - had touched his mind. Harry knew it was magic of some sort. His uncle had never done anything like that, and he knew that if used different touching his mind could be something very, very painful. He was sure if his uncle could have done it, he would have. He had made his uncle mad so many times!

Yet Harry felt a little better having shown Snape the dream. He was still scared - petrified - because he was sure that Snape would finally see him for what he was. Weak and horrible. But he felt better that maybe Snape would finally treat him in a way that he would understand. The big rooms still scared him, and he had to start working on paying Snape back for sleeping on the couch, the food, and especially the medicine. Snape had told him that he didn't owe anything, but Harry knew that there would come a day when Snape would get tired of giving him things, and he would invoke old debts. He moved across the room into the kitchen.

"Master Harry Potter!" he heard as soon as he entered the kitchen, still holding the blanket, but unaware of that little fact. He spun to face the little high voice. He saw Nitty ironing Snape's freshly cleaned robes. "What is you doing in here?" She was standing on a chair, and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"I - I was - I mean - I wanted..." He had never seen anything like the little house elf before.

"You's need to be getting back to sleep," she demanded.

"I can't," he defended. "I should be doing chores."

"I be doing all the chores around here, Master Harry," she said, wagging her finger at him slightly sassily. "No need to worry."

"But - but that's my job!" He was just so confused! There was this little - person - who did the chores? Did Snape treat this little one like the Dursleys had treated him? She looked strange, but it seemed like she was supposed to look that way. So Harry doubted that Snape beat this little...girl?

"You sayin' I don't do a good enough job?" she challenged.

"No," Harry said cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I'm Nitty," she said. "And you's need to be getting back on the sofa."

"Can I help you with that? I'm really good with ironing."

"You's really intent on doing chores, aren't you, Master Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am, I have to."

"I's not a ma'am!" she shrieked, suddenly startled. "I'm Nitty!" Harry came closer to her, and in her shock, she had let her iron go. Harry picked it up and began to run it across Snape's robes.

"You stop that, Master Harry!" she shouted, recovering herself, and lightly slapping his hands. "That be my job! Master Severus told me to keep you sleeping or eating! No work for you!" Nitty used reserves of house elf magic which blew Harry back into a chair in kitchen. "You will sit there and eat your lunch. Or supper, rather. You's been asleep all day." Harry suddenly looked scared and unsure. He tried to get up, but the house elf magic held him there, and he began to panic. Last time he had been tied to a chair... He started to choke back violent sobs.

Nitty began to look panicked too at Harry's reaction. What was wrong with this stupid little boy? He should know not to help an elf, and he was making her job a lot harder by trying to help. He wasn't well, and now something was upsetting him. Did he really want to help her that much?

"MASTER SEVERUS!" she screamed, and popped out of the room. Harry screamed a bit when he saw her disappear. He still couldn't move from the chair and started to cry freely. Panic was overwhelming him. Snape was going to come back, and he hoped he wouldn't be upset with Nitty. He hadn't been very cooperative, he knew that, but he hoped that Snape would take his frustration out on him and not the little - person. He wasn't sure what Nitty was. She wasn't quite human, but that didn't matter.

.oO-Oo.

He was down in laboratory, brewing more potions for Poppy's ward. Suddenly, Nitty popped into appearance, screaming his name. He knew Nitty knew not to interrupt his brewing unless it was something quite serious. And right now, the most likely thing to have gone wrong would have something to do with Harry.

"What's wrong?" he barked, pausing his brewing.

"It's Master Harry!" she began sobbing and blurring out. Silly house elves! Severus thought. Every house elf, if sorted, would end up in Hufflepuff.

"What's wrong with Harry?" He was putting away the most dangerous of his potions ingredients. No matter what was wrong with Harry it wouldn't do to leave highly poisonous things laying around.

"He came in and wanted to help me, but I tells him, he's not to do that, and so he tried anyway, and so's I put him in a chair, and he's up there, really scared, Master Severus, really scared! I don't know what's he's scared of!" She was fairly blathering by the end, in clear distress.

"I'll be right up there to take care of it," he said calmly, trying to stabilize the poor little elf. "I'll need you to come with me, so that you can release Harry." Of course the house elf didn't know how to handle the boy, he huffed. Pinning him in a chair, as he was sure Nitty had done, was certainly not a good way to handle him. In a moment, Severus was bounding up the long staircase up to his kitchen, with Nitty running behind him.

He opened the kitchen door, and saw Harry sitting in a chair, slumped against his magical restraints, crying softly in despair. Severus approached him, and held his arms out, ready to catch him. Signaling to Nitty to release him, Harry fell forward into his strong arms, but didn't really react. Severus suspected that Harry was too deep in some memory to react. Severus wondered at the horror of what Harry was reliving at the moment. Harry just kept crying softly as Severus sat down in the chair, pulling Harry on his lap. He let Harry lean against him, began rocking a bit, and whispered soothing sounds to him.

"It's alright, Harry, I'm here. Nitty didn't mean anything by it. She's sorry. Are you alright? It's alright to cry." He kept a steady stream of words flowing, until Harry stopped crying.

"Please," Harry whispered. "Please don't hurt her. She was only trying to do what you told her to. I didn't do what she said. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt her." Ah, there was the kind and gentle nature of the boy. Of course his first thought would be to try to defend Nitty. He only hoped that Nitty's sharp tongue hadn't hurt Harry too much.

"I won't hurt her," Severus assured Harry. "I won't lay a hand on her, and I won't take away her food. I won't harm her in any way." He wrapped his arms around Harry, and pressed his own cheek against Harry's mop of black hair. He sighed.

"I's sorry, Master Harry!" Nitty pitched in. "I's really sorry!" Severus heard Harry's breath hitch and he felt Harry nod at Nitty. With a look, Severus sent Nitty away. He would speak with her later, and for Harry's sake, he would make sure he was especially gentle with the elf. Not that he ever actually hurt his elf. He could just be short-tempered and snippy with her sometimes. Where did he think she'd learned her sharp tongue? With another sigh, Severus turned Harry so that they looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have left you alone, and I shouldn't have had Nitty look after you. By the way, Nitty is a house elf, in case you were wondering." He knew he had made a mistake, and he was truly sorry. He hadn't had the boy for twenty-four hours, and he'd already messed up! Oh, he hoped he would be able to suffice for the boy. Harry just sat there, silent, searching his face with those large green eyes. Severus slowly lifted his hand touched Harry's forehead, ignoring the flinch. He ran his hand through Harry's hair, and then brought Harry into another embrace. He hoped Harry would one day trust him. If Harry could trust anyone.

Severus knew he wasn't going to be able to guess everything that had happened to Harry. He didn't even want to know. But he knew he would have to talk to Harry. And he needed to get the boy as well as possible as quickly as possible. Albus Dumbledore wasn't going to wait for Harry to be well to start his meddling again. And Severus was sure that he would begin again. He had bought some time for Harry, but he didn't know how much.

"I told someone about my nightmare last night," he said, breaking his thoughts. "I promised you I would, and I did." Harry didn't react. "I think it might help. Harry?"

"Yes, sir," he said softly. He hitched another breath and voluntarily laid his head against Severus' chest, snuggling a bit. Severus was floored, but accepted it wordlessly. Usually he would have been appalled at the thought that he would ever allow an eleven year old to sit on his lap much less snuggle in his robes, but he was overjoyed now to see any bit of trust from Harry. Even if it was just momentarily because Harry lifted his head again and looked guilty.

"It's alright, Harry," he said. "You may snuggle. You've missed so much. I'm so sorry." He felt tears rise to his own eyes, but blinked them back. It had been ten years since he cried last. He cried over Lily's body and swore he would never love or cry ever again. He had stayed true to his promise until last night when he realized he did love this child - Lily's child - and that only magnified the guilt he felt. He could see Lily accusing him. Or maybe it was only his conscience disguised as Lily. He felt like he was personally responsible for every scar, both mental and physical, that had been placed upon Harry. He pinched the bridge of his nose, banishing any more tears than threatened to fall.

.oO-Oo.

Harry didn't know why Snape was apologizing. He was an adult, and he didn't need to apologize. And Harry couldn't even think of anything the man had done to hurt him at all. Why on earth would he be apologizing? It felt so good to be held by him. It was scary, but he felt good when Snape held him. He knew he had put his face into Snape's clothes. Snape had called it snuggling. He knew he had snuggled, but he felt guilty, having taken something like that for himself.

His uncle had drilled it into him that he was never to take anything, and never to ask for anything. Of course, he still took things occasionally, when he really needed them, and tried not to get caught. If he got caught, it was hell for him. It had happened a few times, when he stole food, and his uncle or Dudley had seen it. His aunt never even looked at him if she could help it, but his uncle and Dudley didn't mind looking at him or touching him.

And neither did Snape. Snape didn't mind looking at him or touching him either, but it was so different from Uncle Vernon or Dudley. And even though he had slept all day, apparently, Harry was still tired. He was so tired. He felt his eyelids getting heavy, and he leaned against Snape again. Even if it was a trick, he would still get a moment of comfort from it, and he would hold on to that memory until the day he finally died. But Snape didn't push him away, or call him a freak, or make fun of him. He just put a hand over his head and supported him with warm, firm touches.

Harry heard something, but wasn't sure what it was. It sounded like singing. He pulled himself to consciousness long enough to realize that Snape was humming, and the vibrations of his chest lulled him to sleep.

.oO-Oo.

Severus was pleased when Harry again leaned into him, and he held Harry, firmly but gently. Firmly enough to be safe, but gently enough that Harry knew he could push away at a moment's notice. He saw how tired Harry looked. Undoubtedly, the last incident had taken a lot of energy, and not only that, but Harry was catching up on much needed sleep over the last ten years.

He began to hum a melody he remembered his mother singing to him. It was an old wizarding lullaby, and he couldn't remember the words for the life of him. Harry's breathing evened out, and his muscles relaxed a bit. They were still incredibly tight, but he wasn't as stiff as he was when he was awake. He should give the boy massages when Harry trusted him enough to do it. Severus still hummed, even though he knew Harry was asleep, but he still did for some reason. The blasted boy was turning him into an emotional fool of a Hufflepuff.

But he would turn into an emotional fool of a Hufflepuff if that was what Harry needed, he knew. He'd have the intelligence of a Ravenclaw, the emotionalism of a Hufflepuff, and, God forbid, the courage of a Gryffindor, if that was what Harry needed. He would do anything possible for the little form that had fallen asleep on him.

His reputation would be shot. He knew Harry would still be staying with him at the beginning of the school year. And he'd have a firstie trailing with him. So much for the cold, dark dungeon bat. He couldn't keep his mask up even in public if Harry was with him. It would terrify the poor boy out of his mind.

How would he justify this change of events to the other Death Eaters? Especially Lucius? He put those thoughts out of his mind. He knew he'd come up with something when the time was right. He always did.

Thinking back to the Harry's dream, still burned into his mind, Severus took one of Harry's hands in his own. The skin was rough with scars from cuts and burns, and Severus moved his thumb over the skin softly. No one - but especially not a child - should have skin like this. He shuttered to think the horrors that had caused the burn marks on Harry's hands. What torture had the Dursleys invented to cause it? Perhaps the Dark Lord could learn a few things from them, he thought ruefully.

He pushed Harry's hoodie sleeve up a couple of inches, and saw the scars and burns from the ropes. He had remembered seeing them when he healed them. He had wondered what had caused them. He knew, but he couldn't believe it. He had known Harry had been tied, but he just hadn't been able to believe it. What else would he find out about this child? Running this fingers over the robe burns, he sighed.

It seemed that with every step of progress he made with Harry, there was another horror he learned about. And Severus wasn't foolish enough to believe it would end any time soon. He knew that this cycle would continue for a long time. He was prepared for a long summer. And a long school year.

Sometime soon, perhaps tomorrow, he wanted to know about the scars that ran over Harry's arms. The scars were deep, perfectly parallel, and had certainly been made with a knife. Had Harry really been partaking in self-harm? Or did the scars tell a different story? There were so many of them. Severus was reminded that he still bore the marks of his own self-harm. But he could count them on both hands. Self-harm or not, Severus was ready to help Harry. The upside to self-harm was that Harry was expressing himself, even if it was an awful way. If it wasn't self-harm, it was another stumbling block to remove.

He thought back to his own experiences with self-harm. He was sitting outside the castle, in the fall of his fourth year, and he had instructed Lily to leave him alone. She didn't need to be troubled with his own twisted sense of justice. But, like the Gryffindor she was, she hadn't listened, and sought him out anyway. He remembered holding the knife millimeters above his arm, as he bled from a different laceration made minutes before, focusing on the pain, and the blood flowing freely. Lily had shrieked at him, and he had looked over at her with dead eyes. She wasn't supposed to be there to see it. He knew it was stupid, and he was doing it anyway. It was what he felt he deserved. It was why he never made a move to claim Lily as his own. He wasn't good enough for her. She was a pure as her name. And he also lived up to his.

She had brought him to Poppy with a story about getting cut while swimming in the lake. Not only was his hair not wet, but Poppy knew he didn't swim. But she hadn't asked any questions or reported it to anyone. Perhaps she should have though, Severus thought, because it wasn't the last time he fell into that. Maybe his need for self punishment was part of his reason for joining the Death Eaters.

He hated his sick need for punishment. He had enough control to not cut himself anymore, but he couldn't help torturing himself with memories, like he was doing at the moment. Perhaps that was why he hadn't gone to see anyone about his nightmares. No, he knew that was the reason. He felt he deserved them and every aspect of them that tortured him. It wasn't only his father that haunted his dreams. Lily's accusing eyes, James Potter and his gang, and the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. He relived all these memories whenever he closed his eyes, and then sometimes his mind combined them all into something of a super-nightmare and they were all together at once. And talking to Minerva hadn't changed his opinions. But he was a man of his word, if nothing else, and he knew Harry didn't deserve his nightmares. If it was the only way to convince Harry to face his nightmares, then he would try to shake off his own.

If these were the effects of his abuse, what would Harry's torture mean for him?

He looked at Harry's face, and realized it was beautiful. As Harry slept, his chest slowly rising and falling, he looked at peace. Yes, he was broken, but he was beautiful in his own way. There were a lot of things that had happened to Harry, but none of them had taken his innocence.

He shouldn't be raising this boy. They both had seen too much. And he had lost his innocence long ago. He didn't want to destroy Harry's. He was afraid of making a mistake. What if he damaged Harry more than he already was? Lily voice - the only voice of reason in his childhood - told him that he couldn't do that. He was still afraid he would find a way.

He felt inadequate. All the time, he felt inadequate. He wasn't cut out to be a professor, especially a head of house. And he certainly wasn't cut out to look after a child full time. It wasn't like his father had ever been a good example for him. He didn't know anything about how to care for a child, much less a child as broken as Harry.

Love hurt. It hurt so much right now, and he had never wanted to feel it again. The last time he felt it was when he had seen Lily's cold dead body. And every Halloween after that. He was opening himself up to so much hurt, and he didn't care. He felt a sense of purpose that he also hadn't felt since Lily's death. He knew how dangerous it was to build his life around one person. He had already been through its affects. But despite the fact that his brain screamed warnings at making the same mistake again, his heart just wouldn't listen. Well, his brain finally said, not my fault when you get hurt again. I warned you.

Severus felt his own eyes begin to close as well. He was disappointed that Harry had only eaten half a bowl of rice cereal, but he couldn't wake him up to eat. Harry needed his sleep as much as he needed food, and he had eaten something that day. Severus was certain that if Harry had been at the Dursleys, he wouldn't have gotten anything.

Severus fell into the welcoming arms of sleep.

.oO-Oo.

Harry woke with a small start. He hadn't had any nightmares. Quickly he realized he was still in Snape's arms, still leaning against his chest. Snape's head was resting against his own, and Harry was still in an embrace. He squirmed a little bit.

"Shh," Snape muttered, half awake already. "You're safe. I have you. Can you eat anything?" Harry shook his head tiredly. He'd already eaten once today. What was Snape talking about? It had been a big meal too.

"Here," Snape said after a moment, pressing a tube into his hands. "Drink this, and I won't make you eat anything. This time. It has nutrients in it. It tastes awful, but you need it. You also need your rest." Harry took the vial and drank it wordlessly. He was already indebted to this man for the rest of his life, so what was a little more?

He knew what would happen to him if he died before he could even out the scales but that didn't matter. He was sure he would die before then anyway. Snape was right, it did taste something awful. He shuttered, and held the empty vial out to Snape, who took it and set it on the nearby table.

"I'm going to get up and put you to bed," he whispered, getting up.

"Do I have to?" Harry whispered back, also half asleep.

.oO-Oo.

Severus doubted that Harry would have asked that question if he had been in full possession of himself. In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Harry didn't have the same inhibitions.

"What would you like to do?" he whispered, holding Harry on his hip. Even if Harry had weighed a normal amount, he would have been plenty strong enough, but thin as he was, it was very easy holding him.

"I want to stay with you," he thought he heard Harry mutter, still half asleep. "I don't have nightmares." Well, that jolted Severus awake like nothing else. Alright, Harry was still mostly asleep. He doubted whether Harry would even remember this conversation. On the one hand, Severus hoped he would so that Harry would know he could express what he wanted without fear of punishment, and on the other, he hoped he wouldn't, because Harry might fear a punishment for have stated such, even if Severus had not laid a violent hand on him.

"Alright," Severus said after his shock eased a bit. "You can stay with me." Harry nodded and snuggled into his robes. It might be awkward, and if anyone knew, scandalous, but let public opinion be hanged, Harry had expressed what he wanted, and Severus was going to see to it that Harry did stay with him. No one had to know. Anyone who knew what was really happening wouldn't have a problem and no one else was going to find out.

Walking into his bedroom, Severus laid the again sleeping form out on the bed. Harry whimpered as the last of physical contact was broken. Sighing, Severus laid himself out beside Harry, and brought him close, pulling the blankets over them both and falling asleep, grateful that Harry was sleeping a bed, with pillows and a comforter.

.oO-Oo.

There was a crash, and Harry jolted awake, but he felt something restraining him from sitting up. He was terrified. Something had woken him, and it wasn't a nightmare. Once again, he realized he was in Snape's arms. But this time they were in a bed, and he recalled the dream he'd had. Realizing it wasn't a dream, he groaned slightly, and his fear increased.

"Shh," Snape said, giving him a bit more room. "It's just a bit of thunder. You can sleep on the sofa if you've changed your mind." But much as this whole situation disgusted him, Harry didn't want to be alone. Snape's touch was so nice. He liked it. Which was he more scared of? The current situation or being alone?

"I won't hurt you, I promise," Snape whispered.

.oO-Oo.

Severus heard the thunder, and then felt Harry squirm. He heard Harry make some sort of a vocalization, and knew Harry remembered what had happened earlier. He could feel the fear mounting in the boy.

"Shh," he whispered, moving a bit so the boy wouldn't be forced to maintain contact with him. "It's just a bit of thunder. You can sleep on the sofa if you've changed your mind." He didn't want to keep Harry with him if Harry had any qualms. But he didn't want to make Harry feel unwanted. He truly didn't mind if Harry stayed with him. Honestly, he hadn't had any nightmares either. And as much as he knew he deserved them, it was pleasant to sleep without them. Without any nightmares about anything. But Harry's fear just kept rising and Severus could feel the indecision.

How stupid of him! He was just a stupid idiot! He wasn't living up to expectations as a spy and a Slytherin! Where had his observational skills and intuition gone on holiday? Severus went down a list of every insult he knew and applied every one to himself. And that was a very long list. Of course. He hadn't even thought of such a thing. Vernon was just the kind to use the boy like that too. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? Well, if he were honest with himself, it was because he had never had to think of it before. Of course Harry would feel scared. Severus didn't know how the boy had ever wished to stay with him.

"I won't hurt you, I promise," he whispered, trying to ease Harry a bit. He knew his words were nothing compared to what had been done to Harry. But it was all he could offer right now. He felt grief tearing at him, but didn't know what to do with it. He wished he could take all of Harry's pain himself.

He felt Harry move closer to him, and he put his arms around the boy, trying to comfort him. Harry's fear of being alone right now had overcome any other fears he had, and Severus felt proud that Harry had chosen to trust him that much.

"I'll always keep you safe," he whispered knowing he would have to address this in the morning, and fell asleep again, as Harry did so as well.


	7. Memories of the Past

The moment Severus woke up, he remembered the conversation, if one could call it that, from the middle of the night. He groaned inwardly. He didn't even know where to start. What could he say to Harry? Simple words were nothing compared to what he now knew Harry had been through. Harry would have lasting effects that he wouldn't be able to counter. He just didn't know how to deal with this. He was out of his depth, and he didn't have any back up. Sure, Minerva would help in any way she could, but she would have even less of an idea of how to handle it than he would. And Dumbledore was going to be absolutely no help at all. Severus seethed whenever he even thought the man's name. He cracked one eye open, and saw Harry was still sleeping. Apparently neither of them had had nightmares all night. Which, Severus realized, was quite a feat for both of them.

Carefully, Severus got up and began to see to more rice cereal for Harry and himself. He and Nitty began to work together. So this was a perfect time to address her about yesterday's drama.

"Nitty," he said when he saw her pop back with the cereal. "I need to talk to you about Harry."

"Yes, Master Severus," she said and hung her head. "I'm very sorry, very sorry."

"Nitty," Severus said, ignoring her apologies, "Harry has been hurt very badly by his relatives. He was treated worse than a slave house elf to a Death Eater family." He had to try to put this in terms Nitty could understand. And it was true. Sure, Death Eaters treated their house elves like rubbish, ignoring them and abusing them with words and punishments, but still, they were treated better than Harry had been.

"Worse?" she whispered, shocked. "How could his blood be bad to him like the Death Eaters?" Nitty looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Yes, worse. I honestly don't know. Wizards and muggles alike should learn from you house elves. We would do well to learn our gentleness from you. And I need you to try to be careful with him. He's very delicate. I can't tell you all the instructions you would need to know. I don't even know everything about how to handle him. You pinned him in a chair yesterday. He's probably been tied to a chair before. Did you think of that?"

"No," Nitty admitted, sounding dejected. Blast, he was trying to be gentle! And it looked like Nitty was going to burst into tears at any minute. He didn't need a crying house elf on his hands. A crying child was bad enough. The delicate composure of Nitty's emotions had been swinging freely since she felt she had disappointed him the day before. He knew she had tried her best.

"Pull yourself together," he lightly snapped. Nitty did. "I don't know what Harry's relatives may have done to him when they tied him in a chair, but it was unquestionably horrible. And pinning him in the chair brought back all those memories. That was why he was scared. He was scared that whatever had happened to him then was going to happen again." Nitty just nodded at the ground. "I don't want you to feel guilty about it. We pulled through it, and you'll know better next time. Try to let me deal with him if you can."

"Yes, Master Severus," she said contritely. Severus nodded and looked up at the doorway. He jumped slightly when he saw Harry standing there. Oh, wonderful, he thought sarcastically. Harry had just heard at least some of his lecture to Nitty.

"Good morning, Harry," he said. "How much did you hear?"

"Everything," he whispered, and Severus mentally huffed at the thought that he had just traded a whimpering house elf for a whimpering child.

"Do you have any questions, Harry?" He sat down and gestured that Harry should sit across from him. Harry complied. If he had heard his whole discourse with Nitty, there may well be something he needed to clear up.

"No, sir," Harry said automatically, and Severus looked skeptically at the boy. The answer was too fast for comfort.

"Eat," he said, pointing at the bowl of rice cereal. "It's more of what you had yesterday. I want you to eat everything you can hold."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, picking up his spoon, and he began eating.

"When did you wake up?" Severus asked.

"When you left," Harry answered. He nodded. Severus silently ate as well, keeping a close eye on Harry, studying his every move, and wondering how he should bring up the topics he needed to talk about. After a few mouthfuls, Harry began scarfing down the cereal. Severus would have rolled his eyes and snapped at Harry under different circumstances. He hated bad table manners, and wolfing his food down was one of them. But he was satisfied that Harry was eating, and he let the manners be. In a matter of minutes, Harry laid his spoon down, and looked up at him. He looked a bit sick, and Severus realized that he had tried to do as he was told.

"Is that alright?" he asked. "Did I eat enough?"

"Yes, for now," he said. The bowl was half full yet, like yesterday, but that was likely all Harry could stomach. Severus handed Harry three vials. "I want you to take all of these," he said. "That one," he said, when Harry picked one out to drink, "is more nutrient potion." Harry threw his head back and drank it. "That one is a stomach calming potion. It will keep you from feeling sick after your meal." Harry repeated the procedure. "And that one is a calming drought." Harry looked at him warily, but drank it without protest. Severus wasn't about to have this conversation without something standing between Harry and a full blown panic attack.

"You want to talk about something, don't you?" Harry muttered, accusingly. A side effect of the calming drought was that is lowered inhibitions, and Harry would be more likely to tell him things. Or ask accusing questions.

"Yes, I do, Harry," he said, settling back in his chair. He crossed his legs and laced his fingers over one knee. He observed Harry for a minute and then ran one hand over his face. "I honestly don't know where to start," he finally admitted. "Why did you want to stay with me last night?" He hoped he was doing this right. He really hoped he was. He didn't know what he was doing! But no one else would be able to handle it better, he reminded himself.

"Because I didn't have nightmares," Harry said guardedly. "I'm sorry I've bothered you." Harry sounded very bitter, and Severus heard his breath hitch.

"You haven't bothered me," he said reassuringly. "You thought about leaving when the thunder woke you up, and you were very uncomfortable for a little while. Why?"

"Because..." and Harry trailed off, looking at the floor, and he blushed a deep crimson.

"It's alright, Harry, you can tell me. I will understand, and I won't hurt you for anything you say."

"Because Uncle Vernon..." he tried again, but he sobbed once. "I don't understand it!" Suddenly Harry was crying. Harry hated how much he cried in front of Snape. "I can't say it," he said after he had regained himself. The calming potion was doing an excellent job.

Of course Harry couldn't explain it, and of course he didn't understand! He was eleven years old, barely! Severus still had to try.

"Harry, would you rather show me? Like you did with your nightmare?" Oh, blast everything, he was going to watch this child's memories of being raped! He hated everything about this situation, except Harry. Seeing this was going to make him, Severus, uncomfortable like nothing else would, and he knew he would be changed by it. Yet he extended this metaphorical hand, because he was willing to suffer it for Harry's sake. If it was as awful to watch it as a grown man who had seen as much as he had as a Death Eater - had done as much as he had as a Death Eater - how much worse was it for Harry, a child, to have experienced that and carry the weight of it by himself?

"Rather than try to say it? Yes," Harry said. But he added, "I'd rather not do anything."

"I know, Harry," Severus said, and he sounded sympathetic. "But you need to. You need to do something. You can't carry this burden around with you forever. I'm here to help you carry it, and I will. Let me help you."

"If you insist," Harry muttered.

"Come here, and sit on my lap," Severus said, uncrossing his legs. Harry scrambled from his chair and crawled into Severus lap like he had instructed. Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and he leaned into Severus' chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm going to touch your mind now, like I did last time. I will only look at what you show me. I will look at anything you want to show me." He didn't want Harry to feel that he was limited in what he, Severus, would look at. Silently, Severus entered Harry's mind.

Like last time, he was assaulted with strong emotions. The same ones as before, but they were less wild this time. Severus chalked it up to the calming drought. Quickly, the emotions cleared and Severus was left looking at the memory. He could feel all of Harry's feelings along with the memory.

.oO-Oo.

Vernon Dursley grabbed a nine-year-old Harry out of his cupboard roughly. Harry stumbled out, trying to ease the obvious pain from the way Dursley grabbed him. His breathing was quick and shallow, and his eyes darted everywhere. Harry wanted to just escape the situation. He knew that being grabbed that way boded nothing good.

"Look here, boy," Dursley growled, "I gave you that medicine for your bloody cough remember? A couple days ago?" Harry nodded, looking terrified. He knew he had to pay for it at some point.

"Well, medicine's expensive," Dursley said. "And I'm going to give you an opportunity to pay me back for it. Got it?" Harry was quivering violently, but nodded again.

"Answer me, boy!" Dursley snapped, shaking Harry.

"Yes, sir!" Harry responded.

"What are you going to do?" Dursley pressed.

"I'm going to pay you back for the medicine because it is expensive," Harry recited, his eyes closed shut. "Nothing is free. I need to balance the scales. I am a freak and I don't deserve anything. You gave me medicine because you care about me. No one else would care about a freak. So I will pay you for the medicine." He felt like he was going to pass out. He hadn't had any food in so long he'd forgotten and now he was so scared.

"Right, boy," Dursley grunted, and grabbed Harry by the upper arm again, pulling him along. Harry winced, but didn't let out a sound as he was dragged up the stairs.

Vernon Dursley threw Harry through a door frame, quickly followed, and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it. Harry just looked around, still shaking.

"Strip," he said curtly. Harry just blinked. "I - said - strip!" he growled threateningly. Harry began to pull off his shirt. He should be used to the beatings by now. But every time he was told to strip for the beatings he always hesitated. He dropped his shirt at his feet, and looked with pleading eyes at his uncle. Oh, those big green eyes! How could anyone ignore such a basic request in them? All Harry wanted was to not be hurt.

"All of it." Harry began to pull down his trousers and pants. In a moment he stood naked before his uncle. Dursley went to a drawer and pulled out a length of rope. Nervously, Harry held out his wrists, palms up. He knew he had to offer himself to be tied or it would be worse for him down the road. There were fewer scars on his arms, but they were still numerous. Dursley, quickly and efficiently, with movements that spoke of much practice, tied Harry's hands. His panic was mounting quickly, but still he didn't say anything. He felt so vulnerable without his clothes, now tied, but he knew he had to pay for the medicine, and there was no getting around it. Dursley led him by the rope and threw him onto the bed, tying him to the headboard, face down.

"Uncle Vernon!" Harry whimpered. "What are you doing?" This wasn't how it worked for a beating. He got tied to the ceiling for a beating, not a bed. He didn't know what was happening. He felt sick, but he didn't know why yet.

"You'll see," Dursley promised. Harry felt another rope being tied between his ankles and stretching him out until it hurt. His uncle tied it to the foot board.

"Please, I'll take a beating," Harry begged. "I'll keep my big mouth shut, I promise!"

"This is how you'll be paying me back. Live with it."

"No, please, anything." Harry's apprehension was reaching unbearable levels, and Harry still didn't know what was going on. He put his face into a pillow, trying to block out the world. He felt the bed sag as his uncle sat. He felt Dursley's leg swing over him, as he sat on the back of Harry's knees. Harry whimpered softly into the pillow.

Harry felt hands on his hips, and his skin crawled. He tried to squirm but the ropes held him tightly. His uncle had learned how to tie really good knots. He lost it and began to cry into the pillow.

"Please, no, please," he begging into the pillow. His uncle just laughed. Suddenly the weight on his knees let up, and he felt a splitting pain shoot through him.

"Please stop!" he cried at the top of his voice. But his uncle took that as a signal to go on. Harry bit back any further screams, and he felt blood in his mouth as he chewed down on his tongue. Harry noticed the pain was rhythmical, and eventually Dursley moaned and had a release. He cried harder, but kept it quiet. His pleas and tears had gone unnoticed. What else had he expected?

"You're not even good at this," Dursley said. "A very basic thing - and you can't even do this right." Harry heaved another sob. He didn't know what he was supposed to be doing, but he was failing whatever it was.

"I'm sorry," he whispered through his tears. "I'm sorry."

"Then we'll do this again, to make up for your utter lack of skill. Must be all you freaks are good for." His uncle's voice dripped disdain. And Dursley did another round, ignoring his nephew's pleas to stop. Harry's objections got weaker and weaker as he cried his soul out. Finally he stopped reacting all together, even his tears.

Harry retreated within himself, and pretended he was back in his cupboard. It didn't block out everything, but it was better than nothing. Harry didn't even notice when uncle stopped, until he was suddenly pulled from the bed and collapsed to the floor, still bound hand and foot.

"You can figure out how to get out of those," his uncle said, and left the room. He started crying again, into his bound hands, as he grieved for something he lost - something he didn't even understand, but he knew he had lost it. He knew his uncle had done something terrible to him. He felt vulnerable and exposed, and most of all, he felt dirty. He knew he would not be allowed to use the shower though, no matter how he felt. His feelings weren't important.

.oO-Oo.

Severus had stuffed everything that even resembled an emotion behind his strongest occlemency shields. It was the only way he was going to survive this memory. He wasn't an empathetic person, but viewing a memory was guaranteed to make anyone but the Dark Lord himself empathetic.

When the memory ran out, Severus pulled back from Harry's mind. He felt his own emotions break through his shields and wash over him. It was a combination of sorrow, grief and anger, with desperation and love mixed in.

"Oh, Harry," he said, hugging him close and rocking. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"You're crying," Harry stated. "Why?" Well, Severus stopped rocking suddenly, and touched his face. He certainly was crying. He hadn't even noticed it start. Harry had blushed again, and looked sick. Severus wasn't sure why, but it was more important to answer Harry's question than ask his own.

"Because I wish I had been there for you sooner," Severus tried to explain, beginning to rock again, letting his tears flow. It may have been ten years since he grieved this openly, but Harry's trauma deserved his grief. "Harry, your uncle raped you. And no one ever should be raped. Is that what you thought I would do to you after I healed you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted, snuggling to Severus. He may have thought that he would do that initially, but Snape hadn't hurt him yet, so he would enjoy it while it lasted. "Uncle Vernon always made me pay for things. Before then it was just beatings, but after he actually gave me medicine, it changed to...to that."

"So that wasn't the only time?" Harry shook his head.

"Oh, Harry," Severus repeated, pressing him close, closing out the world from the boy, keeping him safe. The things which had been done to Harry! The moment Harry was able to stand on his own, Severus knew he was going back to the Dursleys, and to Dumbledore. None of them were going to survive his wrath, he thought wryly. But then on second thought he realized he wasn't really going to kill anyone. He didn't want to end up in Azkaban, but that was the only reason stopping him. Harry needed him, and he would not sacrifice Harry's best interests for anything, even justice.

"I will never - ever - touch you like that. I won't let anyone else do it to you ever again. It's wrong on so many levels. Please believe me. Do you?" Harry nodded cautiously. "Do you really believe me? It's fine if you don't. I won't be angry, I promise."

"I do, sir," he said, more sure this time.

"Will you tell me about the scars on your arms?" Severus asked. Harry perked up a bit at the change of topic. He pushed his sleeve up. Ah! Severus would really need to get this child new clothes! He would take care of that while he brought Harry out to get his things for school.

"These, sir?" he said, pointing to the deep, parallel scars which had made Severus wonder for so long.

"Yes, can you tell me about them?"

"That..." Harry began, but then his face went dark, and he seemed scared. "I did those."

"You cut yourself?" Severus asked, looking for confirmation.

"Yes," Harry sighed. "My uncle made me. I didn't want to!" He was reacting to Severus' facial reaction at his assertion that he had been responsible. "It hurt, and it bled so much! I felt weak after, and I wouldn't be able to fight him at all. He started making me do it before he...raped...me so that he wouldn't have to tie me up. I'm sorry!"

Well that was a news flash. Severus had been prepared for an explanation about how it made him feel better. Severus ran his fingers over the scars that Harry was still showing him. He felt deeply sad about it. Deeply sad didn't even being to describe how he felt. He wanted to erase these ten years that had happened, and he wanted to replace with something more normal, more pleasant. Even living with him would have been better. And he could be very, very cruel, both to himself and to everyone around him.

"Why did he start making you do it?"

"So that it would get rid of my bad blood," he stated. "He made me do it after I did anything freakish and he said it would make me stop doing those things. And then I would be normal. It never worked though." Harry sounded wistful at the end. "I thought it would, and so I tried very hard in the beginning." He pulled his sleeve up more. "This was the first one," he explained. It was particularly deep. "I wanted to get all the bad blood out of me, so I cut as hard as I could." He swallowed. "I think I hit the bone on that one. But I just passed out after a few minutes." There were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Severus.

"You know that's a lie, don't you? That you don't have bad blood?"

"I knew it wasn't going to help after awhile," Harry said, and Severus noticed he had avoided the question. "After I woke up, my uncle made me clean up the blood on the floor."

"Did he stop your arm from bleeding?"

"He tied a rag on it, but after he beat me for needing the rag." Severus scowled. "I needed to pay him for it!" Harry tried to justify. Severus huffed a bit.

"That's stupid," Severus stated flatly. "It's stupid to have you 'paying' for everything. Do you believe what you told your uncle? That your uncle cared about you?"

"I used to," Harry said, dropping his eyes, but Severus knew it was more out of a shame he felt rather than a lie.

"But you don't anymore?"

"No, sir," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because you haven't beaten me or anything since you got me," he said. "You've listened to me, and you've fed me, and you've let me sleep, and you're holding me, and...and you sang to me." Harry felt a small tingling in his spine. "You let me sleep with you and you didn't...I mean, you..."

"I understand," Severus said when he noticed Harry was starting to hyperventilate in his panic to try to spit the words out. "Did you believe the part about no one caring about you?"

"Yes," and Harry hung his head. "But I think you care."

"Yes, I do, very much."

"You cried, and that's when I knew you cared," Harry volunteered. "No one cries unless they care."

"You're right, that's true," Severus conceded, now glad he hadn't tried to contain his emotions any more than he had. "But don't forget that people can care - they can really and truly care - and not cry." Harry nodded.

"One last thing I want to know about," Severus said. Harry looked tired and strained, and he wouldn't extend this any longer than he felt he had to. "When Nitty pinned you in the chair. You had a memory that was sparked by that. Can you tell me about it?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "It was when...it was when I stole food once. I know it's wrong to steal, and I'm sorry!" He began to cry into Severus' robes. "I'm sorry! I was just so hungry! It was just the scraps from the garbage, but Uncle Vernon had told me I wasn't supposed to take them - that it was stealing, and stealing was wrong - but I just couldn't help myself! I hadn't gotten any food in so long, I'd forgotten how long it was."

"Why weren't they feeding you?"

"Because I wasn't getting all my chores done on time."

"And so what did the chair have to do with this?"

"Uncle Vernon tied me to the chair and taunted me with food," he shuttered, "but he wouldn't give me any. He wouldn't even give me any water. And he hit me while I was tied. Sometimes he told me he would give me the food, so I opened my mouth to take it, but he would put something else in instead." Harry's breathing became ragged.

"Like what?"

"Once he put a spoon that he had boiled. He clamped my mouth shut on it. It burned my mouth, and he wouldn't let me take it out. Another time he dumped salt in my mouth, and wouldn't let me spit it out."

"Did he give you any water after that?"

"No. He just laughed and said I was really thick to actually believe that he would give me food."

"How long did he do that?"

"I don't know. It was until he changed tactics. He started feeding me and giving me water eventually."

"Why do I not think this is a good thing? Continue."

"He gave me food and water until I couldn't hold anything, and then he made me eat some more. He kept forcing it down, until I started throwing up. I threw up all over myself, but he wouldn't clean it up or let me go to I could. He just started the whole thing over again. I don't know how long he did it." Harry went limp in Severus' arms and his head fell back. He slipped Harry off his lap and stood up. Harry seemed to have recovered some. Severus went down on one knee, making eye contact with Harry.

"I want you to know that I do care about you, and you are not a freak. You aren't weak, and you deserve everything I can give you. You won't have to pay me back. I will not beat you. I will not without food from you. I will not lock you away. And I will not rape you or touch you inappropriately. You are a wonderful human being - a powerful wizard. You are good. You don't have bad blood, and you may ask questions. You may ask for food whenever you want. I won't hurt you for it. If you ask for food, that is what you will get. And you will get as much or as little as you want. I won't hold it back or force you to eat till you throw up. If you refuse to eat for long enough, I will ask you to eat, but only a minimum. You do not need to change. You are good the way you are. There is nothing wrong with you.

"Now, I need to go see someone," he said. He meant Dumbledore. He was going to tears shreds off him until Dumbledore wished he wasn't born. And he wasn't going to let Dumbledore get away with any of his usual manipulations if he could help it. "I want you to stay here and eat lunch with Nitty. Now, I also want you to understand a few things. Nitty is a house elf, and a lot of house elves are kept in very bad conditions - usually a cupboard - and they have to do work for the wizards who own them. I do not do that to Nitty. Nitty is a free house elf, which means that she does what she does because she wants to. I feed her, and I give her a place to sleep, and she helps me with the chores because she wants to. So she can be very snippy if you try to do what she feels is her job. You heard my talk with her. She will try to be understanding. But I want you to understand her too. Will you eat when she tells you to?"

"Yes, sir," Harry assented.

"Listen to her like you would listen to me. She can be your friend. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry smiled at him. Severus couldn't help bringing him into a close embrace, and Harry returned it. Severus wanted to see that smile on Harry's face every day. And, what he only realized then, he wanted to be the cause of it.

Suddenly, Severus saw the gray smoke of a patronus enter the room. It formed into a large python, and Severus knew it to Lucius Malfoy's patronus. Harry had also seen it and pressed himself close in fear.

"Don't worry, Harry, it won't hurt you," he reassured. Then the snake opened its mouth.

"Severus! We're having a meeting in a few minutes at my house. It's the summer, so we expect you attend. Do please come over." Then the snake disappeared.

Well, so much for visiting Dumbledore. He'd have to attend this Death Eater meeting as the good spy he was. And he had to make a choice and he had to make it soon. He could omit telling the Death Eaters about Harry, and the minute they found out they would be furious, and he might not be able to explain it away sufficiently for them. Or he could simply tell them about it, and hope for the best. Sometimes honesty, even with Death Eaters, really was the best policy.

"Alright, Harry, change of plan," he said. "I need to go attend this meeting. I don't know how long it will take. I may not be able to see you after I come back." He wasn't sure what sort of state he would be flooing back in, or if he had important information to deliver immediately. "I live a complicated life, Harry. I can't explain everything to you. But if I can't see you right away, please don't be hurt. Nitty will take care of you. It is all the more important that you listen to her while I am away. Do not hesitate to ask her for anything or bring your problems to her. She will listen, and she will get you anything you like. Alright, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied and he could feel Snape's seriousness radiating off of him. He knew whatever this meeting was about was serious, and probably dangerous. Snape hadn't said that he might be coming back hurt, but he knew that was what he meant. He would be very good while he was gone, he promised.


	8. A House Divided

Snape embraced Harry, and Harry felt his arms creep around the man's neck in response. At some level, he cared for Snape. But he knew that everything he cared about ended up hurt or dead, and it scared the living hell of him. He had butterflies in his stomach, and, regrettably, no pesticide. He was terrified for Snape. Snape was the only adult - the only person - who had ever cared about him. The only one who had really cared about him. Sure, his uncle had said it, but his uncle had always hurt him. And the things Snape did, and the things Snape said about him, were much more satisfying than the pain his uncle had caused. The things Snape said and did comforted him. He just wanted to cry whenever he thought about it. Snape said he was good, and that he wasn't going to hurt him. Harry didn't really believe it. He wasn't that stupid. But still, hearing it felt so good. It was healing salve an inch thick on wounds that had gone too long untouched.

"Please come back," he whispered in Snape's ear.

"I will," Snape whispered back. He broke off the embrace, and stood up. He looked at Harry for a moment, as though he wished to memorize what Harry looked like. What Harry didn't know was that was exactly what Snape was doing. What Harry didn't realize was that Snape wasn't as sure about coming back as he had let on, and he wanted to be able to remember everything about Harry in case he didn't. Curtly, Snape turned on his heal, and left the room. There wasn't any point in putting Malfoy off, Severus concluded.

Harry drifted into a corner of the kitchen and sat down on the floor, pulling his knees to his chin, feeling quite miserable. When he realized this, he felt frustrated and slightly angry. He had no reason - no reason! - to feel miserable! He'd been fed for two days in a row, and he didn't have any open or hurting wounds. But he felt miserable all the same. He wanted Snape to come back. He'd never wanted another human being around him in his life, and this feeling scared him. But Snape wasn't like other humans. Maybe Snape wasn't really human?

If any of the current Hogwarts students, outside of those in Slytherin, had been witness to Harry's thoughts, they would have heartily agreed, but not for reasons that resembled Harry's at all. Harry saw Snape as something of a demi-god. The Hogwarts students saw him as the devil incarnate. Well, admittedly, he did look a bit evil. And yes, it had put Harry off of Snape in the beginning, but Snape hadn't hurt him yet. Maybe he wasn't quite as evil as he put on.

And apparently he didn't treat Nitty badly either. He had been very gentle with her when he had overheard their conversation. He hadn't spoken harshly at all really. Snape had said that he was treated badly at his relatives' house. He knew he didn't like how he was treated, but he wasn't sure he'd go so far as to call it treated badly. Sure, Snape had said that no one should be raped. But what if Snape was wrong? He didn't think Snape would lie to him, but what if he was just mistaken? What if Snape one day found out that his uncle had been right, and that he wasn't like normal people? What if Snape thought he deserved to be beaten and raped?

He began to choke back sobs. He didn't think he'd be able to live through it. Harry thought it was linked to the fact that he cared about Snape. Maybe it was because if Snape changed like that, then it would be like the Snape he cared about dying? Harry shrugged it off.

He was glad that Snape had given him that little lecture after having talked to him. He was sure Snape would push him away as dirty, contaminated. He'd gotten used to that feeling, but he still felt it. And he wondered why Snape didn't react to it. Even if he didn't believe everything in Snape's lecture - about him being good and powerful - he was glad that Snape apparently thought he was. He wanted Snape to think well of him. It would kill him the day that Snape turned his back on him. He knew the day would come when Snape would do just that. Just the thought of it made him sick. He was glad he still had the stomach calming potion in his system because he thought he would have thrown up without it.

Harry felt better about all those memories after having told Snape about them. He felt lighter, and he breathed easier. He wasn't sure why. If anything, he really should be more frightened than he was about someone knowing. He should be terrified about what Snape would think. He should be terrified about having to go back to the Dursleys and what his uncle would do to him if he knew that he had told anyone.

But this feeling - caring. It was so strange! It was good, yes, it made him feel good, but it also made him feel like he everything to lose. He had Snape to lose. When he didn't have anything he cared about, he couldn't be hurt. If it wasn't that he cared about not being in pain, even his uncle's beatings, and even being raped, wouldn't have hurt him. But now that he cared about Snape, he knew that if Snape should ever be hurt or die, he would be hurt too. And he knew it would hurt worse than anything his uncle had ever done to him. Ever.

He shouldn't care! He'd learned that long ago! Maybe he should tell Snape about what had happened the last time he cared about something. He didn't want to think about it right now, but maybe Snape would want to hear about it. He seemed to want to hear about a lot of stories. But he had learned not to care. He couldn't afford to be that vulnerable.

But no matter how he reasoned it, he still cared about Snape. And his heart hurt. He knew people said that you loved with your heart. So maybe what he felt for Snape was something like love? And he knew it would hurt, because he hadn't loved in a long, long time. And when he did once upon time, long ago, it had only been brief.

He heaved another sob. He hoped, he prayed, even though he knew God would never listen to him, that Snape would be safe, wherever he was going, whatever he was doing.

"What's wrong, Master Harry?"

Harry looked up and saw Nitty standing in front of him, looking at him with skeptical, narrow eyes. She was trying to assess why he was crying.

"Nothing," he answered, hugging his knees. "It's nothing."

"Because all you humans sits in a corner 'n' cries your eyes out over nothing," she said, but gently. "What's wrong?"

"It's stupid," Harry muttered. That was all it was. It was stupid. Caring about anyone was stupid. At least, him caring about anyone was stupid. "You wouldn't care."

"Ah, but you's wrong, Master Harry," Nitty replied. "I do care. Now, for the third time, what's wrong?"

"Fine!" Harry shouted, jumping to his feet defensively. Nitty took a step back in surprise. Sure, Harry wasn't that much bigger than she was, but still... "Fine! I care about Snape, and I can't live with that! Everything I care about dies, and Snape's going to die over at that meeting!" He had angry tears coming out of the corners of his eyes. He had his hands curled into balls. "I should never care about anything! I shouldn't care about Snape!" He turned his back to Nitty and weakly beat his fist onto the wall as he sobbed into his other arm.

"I shouldn't care. I shouldn't care." Nitty heard his quiet mantra and she felt sorry for Harry.

"Master Harry?" she questioned, but got no answer, except Harry stopped talking. "I thinks you should come to the table and eat. I made you something special!" Harry nodded at the wall, and inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself before he turned and sat down at the table. He was careful not to look at Nitty.

He'd totally blown up at her! And Snape had said to listen to her like he would listen to him! Oh, someone was going to kill him now. He'd messed up. Nitty was going to kill him. Or if she didn't, she'd tell Snape, and he would be livid. Well, he'd rather deal with Snape beating him than deal with Snape dying. He shuttered.

Nitty laid a bowl in front of him. It smelled very good. It smelled like tomatoes. Of course, he didn't know what tomatoes tasted like, but he'd cooked enough at the Dursleys to know what they smelled like. He looked at the bowl, and it held a red liquid. Tomato soup, undoubtedly. There were little white things floating in it. He looked over at Nitty who stood at his elbow anxiously.

"It's tomato rice soup, Master Harry," she said, and she looked worried. "Do you like that?"

"I -" Harry didn't know how to answer that. "I don't know." He just continued to look at the bowl.

"You gonna to try it?" Nitty said, getting annoyed. "Or you gonna turn your nose up at my food?" She huffed a bit.

"No!" Harry gasped, his eyes wide with shock.

"Whatcha waitin' for, then?" Nitty's hands were on her hips again.

"I - I," Harry stammered. "Can you eat with me?" he finally spit out. He didn't know how to eat alone really. Whenever he had been given any food, someone had always been watching him. And then when he ate with Snape, he could judge what to do when based on him. Nitty blinked at him for a minute. Even Master Severus didn't ask her to eat with him.

"You want that, Master Harry?" she gasped at him. He nodded at her from behind lowered eyelashes. Nitty got another bowl of the soup and sat down in the chair that Snape had used. They both sat there, looking at each other uncomfortably.

"Well?" Nitty demanded. "Is you gonna start eating or not?"

"Well..." Harry began. He didn't know how to handle this little creature! She was so...so snippy like Snape had said, but she wasn't mean to him. She didn't hurt him. But her words. He just didn't understand her. "I was waiting for you," he tried to explain.

"That's what I be doin'," Nitty said, her eyes narrowed in annoyance again. "You think you be a house elf? Get over yourself! You be the wizard, and I be the house elf!" Harry nodded, and nervously picked up his spoon. He began to taste the soup. It was really good. It was the best soup he'd ever had. Well, it was the only soup he'd ever had. So of course it was the best. He watched Nitty closely through his eyelashes and messy fringe. She began to eat as well.

"Will you tell Snape?" Harry finally asked, and his stomach clenched.

"Tell Master Severus what?"

"About yelling at you," Harry muttered and looked away.

"You's just had a natural reaction," Nitty assured him. "Nothin' to tell Master Severus about."

"Thank you," Harry smiled gratefully.

"The tomato will settle your stomach," she explained. "And the rice is easy to digest."

"Yes, I know," Harry said. "I can cook."

"How's did you learn?" Nitty wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing, but she had heard Master Severus explaining that Master Harry should talk. So if she could get him to talk, maybe she was doing something right?

"My aunt showed me a bit," he said, shrugging. He liked talking to Nitty. He didn't feel intimidated by her. She was small, and she wasn't a human. "But I learned a lot on my own," he admitted. "I had to cook tomato soup for my cousin when he was sick."

"I see," Nitty said, feeling uncomfortable. "So you was treated like a slave house elf?"

"I...I don't know," Harry said. "I don't know what that is."

"It's when the house elves have to serve masters who aren't nice," she tried to explain.

"Was Snape ever like that?" Maybe if he could find something out about the man he'd be able to judge him a bit better.

"No!" Nitty gasped. "Master Severus freed me as soon as he inherited me! Master Snape has always been very kind!"

"What kind of people hurt their elves?" Harry asked, skeptical. Nitty looked nervous.

"Death Eaters," she whispered.

"Snape mentioned them," Harry said, thoughtfully. "Who are Death Eaters?"

"They're bad to their elves," Nitty said. "And they do dark magic. They're cruel. And they follow You-Know-Who."

"No, I don't know who," Harry said, a little sharper than he had intended. Nitty looked around, as if trying to see if anyone was going to overhear her.

"The Dark Lord," she said. "You's don't know who he is, Master Harry?"

"No," he said. "Should I?"

"Master Harry! I - I don't think it be my place to explain this to you!"

"Why not?" Harry demanded.

"Master Severus would do a better job," she dodged.

"Is that where Snape is now?" Harry asked. "Is he at a meeting of Death Eaters?"

"Yes, Master Harry," Nitty said.

"Will they hurt him?" Harry asked, desperate.

"Master Harry!" Nitty exclaimed, getting very agitated. "It not be my place to answer these questions!"

Fact was, Nitty knew that Snape came back from his Death Eater meetings in bad shape. Almost always. He sometimes would even go to the infirmary, and he hated that. Most of the time he would hole up in his bedroom and not come out for a couple of days. She left food for him at his door, and he would eat it, sometimes, but he wouldn't see anyone other than the Headmaster during that time. She didn't want to explain this to Harry.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, and looked at his soup sorrowfully.

"Eat, Master Harry," Nitty said, more gently this time. He nodded and began to eat again.

So Snape was a Death Eater. He was a follower of whoever the Dark Lord was, and he used dark magic. Well, you didn't need a magical education to put two and two together. Dark magic was obviously not something anyone should be messing with. But apparently he didn't treat his house elf like the others did. And he didn't seem to be cruel to anyone. Well, Harry had only seen Snape interact with him and Nitty. But he hadn't been cruel to either of them. He was very nice. So maybe he was different? Or, maybe, Nitty didn't understand something, and maybe the Death Eaters weren't that bad? Harry was confused. Maybe Snape was just laying an elaborate trap for him? He certainly was more intelligent than his uncle had ever been. So maybe his traps would be more complicated, and take longer to actually come together.

And the worst thing was Harry knew he cared. Snape's trap was brilliant. Snape had lied about caring, and he had given him food, all because this way he could make Harry care, and then take it away from him. It was genius really. If Harry had been a cruel type, he would have filed the idea away to use himself. He cursed himself for falling into Snape's trap. If only he didn't care about Snape! And then he'd told the house elf who would undoubtedly carry the information back to Snape. He would know his trap worked, and start beating - maybe even raping - Harry.

Suddenly, Harry felt scared. Not even his stomach calming potion could keep him from being sick this time. He excused himself, and threw up.

.oO-Oo.

"Severus!" Lucius Malfoy called as Severus flooed into his living room. "I'm so happy you could make it." The blond aristocrat got up and came over, embracing him. Well, Lucius was the closest thing he had to a friend at these meetings. He actually did like the man. Disagreed with him, yes, but he liked him.

"Hello, Lucius," he returned. "I trust your summer has been going well?"

"Of course!" Lucius grinned. "And yours?"

"Yes," Severus said. "It has been going well. Is Draco ready for Hogwarts in the fall?"

"Very much so! He is looking forward to being your student."

"He does realize, Lucius, that even though he is my godson, and the son of a fellow Death Eater, I cannot treat him differently than the other Slytherins?"

"Yes, of course," Lucius said. "He's intelligent enough to know that. But, enough of the small talk. The others are here, and we need to get the meeting going." Severus inclined his head and followed Lucius to where the others had gathered.

The meeting proceeded as usual. Severus was always bored out of his skull at the way the meetings proceeded in the beginning. They just went over procedure and discussed the activities of the other Death Eaters. He never had anything of consequence to report because Dumbledore wasn't actively doing anything. As a spy, he was not expected to conduct or partake in any activities the other did. He was glad of this, since he wanted no part in torturing muggles or muggle-borns. He had enough on his conscience as it was.

But this meeting, he had an impossible time concentrating on the meeting, boring as it was, because his mind kept drifting to Harry. He had decided to tell the Death Eaters about him. But he had to pick the right moment. And as he thought this, the moment came.

"Severus, what have you been doing this summer?" Lucius said.

"The usual," Severus said, and shrugged. "I have been working on my potions for the school stock. Making lesson plans for the upcoming school year. And taking care of Harry Potter."

A silence unlike he had ever heard at a Death Eater meeting fell. Everyone looked at him with blank expressions. Severus smirked. He had never been able to make everyone listen to him like this, and he quite liked the feeling. He might as well enjoy it before they killed him.

"Do tell me you jest," Lucius said. "Taking care of Harry Potter?"

"Yes, I am currently taking care of Harry Potter."

"How did this happen?" Crabbe spoke up.

"I was sent to see if anything was wrong at his relatives' house since he didn't reply to his school letter," Severus explained. "When I got there, I found that his relatives had been abusing him in the cruelest ways imaginable. As you know, I do not approve of child abuse, no matter who the child is, even if it is Harry Potter. I removed him from the house, and am currently taking care of him." There. He said it. Let the spells fly. But there was just silence.

"What did they do to him?" Lucius asked very calmly.

"They beat him on a regular basis," Severus began, "and starved him, and his uncle raped him." Severus was impressed at his own calmness. Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Potter was not personally responsible for anything that happened the night the Dark Lord fell," Severus said, eyes darting from one Death Eater to another. At least they hadn't killed him yet. "No one knows what happened, but Mr. Potter did not chose to do it. There is still hope for him. I'm going to raise him to be a Death Eater. When the Dark Lord returns, and he is old enough, he will take the Dark Mark."

Well, of course, he wasn't really going to do any of that, but it would help his cause if they thought he would. Lucius nodded thoughtfully.

"It would be a great asset for the Dark Lord," he began, "if he could say that Harry Potter - the means of his downfall - was in fact a follower of his."

"Of course," Severus conceded. "The Dark Lord will not turn him away, and he will not deny me my request." Goyle scoffed, and Severus glared at him.

"He denied you once, didn't he?" he mocked. Severus paled. None of the other Death Eaters ever made any reference to Lily in his presence.

"Don't you dare," Severus said, his tone cold.

"Goyle," Lucius barked in a warning tone. Severus was glad that he had Lucius' backing as a friend. The man hadn't criticized him for his love for Lily, and he hadn't seemed opposed to him taking care of Harry.

"You're still taking care of Harry bloody Potter!" Nott shouted, standing up and pointing his wand at Severus. Severus stood up to match him, and drew his wand as well.

"Are you threatening me, Nott?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'm raising the boy to be a Death Eater," Severus repeated. "Did you not hear that? He will follow the Dark Lord."

"You should just kill him," Goyle hissed. "Like what should have happened ten years ago!"

"He is the Dark Lord's, and the Dark Lord's only, to kill," Severus said coldly. "Do you want to be the one responsible for the death of Harry Potter before he returns? In the meantime, he will learn to accept the Dark Lord, and perhaps in his mercy, the Dark Lord will accept him."

"Crucio!" Nott shouted, but in his discourse, Severus was unprepared, and fell to his knees, dropping his wand. He gasped in pain. Nott held the spell for a long time, and Severus began to quiver. He reminded himself that he deserved this. He thought about what Harry had been through, and decided that if Harry could endure ten years of torture, he could endure this. Finally, Nott let the spell go, and Severus fell on his hands. He coughed, and grabbed his wand from the floor.

"Mr. Nott," Severus heard Lucius say, "that was entirely uncalled for."

"He's taking care of Potter," Nott hissed. "Do you not see that? Or because you're his friend you're willing to turn your back on the Dark Lord?"

"Let the Dark Lord look after himself," Lucius replied. "In the meantime, I ask that you leave."

"I'm a Death Eater, and this is a Death Eater meeting," Nott growled. "I will not leave until I'm satisfied that Snape knows what he's getting into, protecting the Potter boy." Severus hadn't moved from the floor. It was a shorter fall that way, because he knew this wasn't going to be the end.

"Nott," he said, his voice still unsteady from the Crucio, "if you expect me to defend myself, I won't. I have made my case, and that is final. I have no intention of dueling you. Do what you will."

Honestly, he didn't feel like fighting at all. Like he said, he made his case. If they didn't accept it, let them do whatever they saw fit. If they killed him now, it would be easier on Harry and himself than later. They wouldn't be as attached. It would hurt Harry less to lose him now than in the future. And it was a fitting punishment for not having found Harry sooner anyway. He inwardly grimaced at the poetic justice of it all. His hate for a dead man had cost Harry ten years of torture, and he couldn't get over that. He deserved the worst Nott could dish out, and he was ready to take it.

"Crucio," Nott whispered again, and Severus flipped on his back, hitting his head on the coffee table nearby. His whole body shook with tremors, but he didn't cry out. Sweat stood out on his forehead. Then Nott released the curse. He still shook.

"Nott!" Lucius said, standing up. "Stop this at once!" Nott just hissed at him. There was nothing Lucius could do to stop him.

"Just let it be, Lucius," Severus whispered, still lying on his back, eyes closed in pain. Lucius looked down at him, and nodded, although he knew Severus couldn't see through his closed eyes. Severus was determined to keep the moral high ground.

Then Nott send a burning hex his way, and Severus felt the blisters break out on his body. Still, he did not make a sound. A stinging curse, a rash hex, an acid charm, a paper cut jinx. Severus still kept his peace as Nott threw one spell after another at him. He was in agony.

"If you kill him," Lucius said darkly, "you will not only have me to deal with, but when the Dark Lord returns, he will kill you in ways that are ten times worse." Nott just sneered at him. Severus appreciated that Lucius cared enough to avenge him if he died. Maybe Lucius would even take care of Harry. Sure, not the ideal situation, but certainly better than other alternatives he could think of.

Nott knelt next to Severus, and laid his wand on Severus' neck. It burned into his skin, and Nott didn't remove it.

"I know it burns," Nott whispered. "And every time you come to a meeting, I will see to it you leave just like this, or worse. You can give up the Potter boy, kill him, torture him, anything, and you will have your relief." He pulled away, and disapparated without acknowledgement to Lucius or anyone else. The others followed suit, although they did acknowledge their host.

"That was rather rude of Nott, wasn't it?" Severus drawled, although he sucked in his breath at the end.

"Severus, you need to go back to Hogwarts and be healed," Lucius said, clearly worried. Usually even Death Eater meetings didn't get this bad. "From what you have said, Pomfrey is a miracle worker. She won't question what happened. You're a spy, and she knows you attend these meetings." Severus just grunted, as he tried to roll over and stand up. He was shaky at best.

He began to collapse, but Lucius caught him, and Severus leaned on him gratefully.

"Lucius," Severus choked out. "I need you promise me something."

"Anything, my friend," Lucius assured him.

"If something happens to me," Severus gasped, still leaning heavily on Lucius, "if I die - will you look after Harry? You need to keep him away from Dumbledore. The fool put him with his relatives in the first place and didn't check on him. Will you promise me this?"

"On my word as a Slytherin and a Death Eater," Lucius began, "and as your friend, I promise that I will look after Harry should anything happen to you. I will keep him from Dumbledore, and I will treat him as my own."

"Thank you, Lucius," Severus said. Severus not only meant the promise, but also the helping hand at the moment, his acceptance of Harry, and his support during the meeting.

"You're welcome, Severus," Lucius responded, equally understanding what Severus had meant. "Go see Pomfrey."

"I will," Severus conceded. It wasn't often he left the meetings needing help to get to the fireplace. His last thought before Lucius sent him home was that he hoped Harry wasn't in the living room to see him like this. The poor boy would be scared senseless.

.oO-Oo.

"Master Harry!" Nitty called. "What's you doing?" Harry was just sitting on the couch, watching the flames in the fireplace. He didn't know what to do with himself. Nitty wouldn't let him do any chores, and without that part of his comfort zone, he didn't know what to do. He was worried about Snape. Worried what was happening to him, and worried about this whole Death Eater business.

"Nothing," Harry said, defensively.

"Obviously," Nitty observed. "Does you want to play a game?"

"A...game?" Harry choked out. "What game?"

"Exploding Snap?" Nitty suggested.

"I don't know how to play games," Harry admitted, shame faced. His relatives had never let him play games. Sometimes he watched during the occasional family game nights that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had, but he never understood what they were actually doing.

"You's doesn't know how to play games?" Nitty gasped. "Even slave house elves play games, Master Harry!" Harry just shrugged. "I's'll teach you!" Nitty darted away and got her deck of Exploding Snap cards. Master Severus was always good about remembering to give her gifts on her birthday and Christmas, and this had been his present last Christmas.

"Master Harry, come sit on the floor!" Nitty was very excited to show Harry how to play. She couldn't fathom not knowing to play any games. Harry did as he was told, and she quickly explained the rules to him. In a few minutes, Harry was playing Exploding Snap, jumping as the cards exploded. He was having a wonderful time! He was having such a good time, he almost forgot about the whole drama with Snape.

Suddenly, the flames roared to life, and Snape fell through. He literally fell on the floor as his legs wouldn't support his weight at the moment.

"Sir!" Harry screamed when he saw Snape's state. The man was in a horrible state. Harry bet it was worse than the one he was in when Snape had picked up from the Dursleys. Sanpe didn't respond. Was he dead? Had Snape died? Harry felt sick, and his heart raced. He was sure Snape had been trapping him with his new-found feelings, but he still cared even if he knew he shouldn't. He still didn't want to see Snape hurt.

"Sir!" he screamed again.


	9. Of Mice and Men

"Master Harry," Nitty said levelly, taking control of the situation, "step aside." Nitty waved her hands at him. She had dealt with this before, and she knew what to do. Harry did as he was told, letting Nitty come close to Snape's prostrate form. She knelt down and checked his pulse. With a quick nod, she checked his breathing, and seeming satisfied got up.

"Master Harry," she said, "I's'll get the school nurse, Madame Pomfrey. Don't you go a-wandring off!" With that, she disapparated.

Harry sat down next to Snape, and pulled his knees close as he watched Snape lying there unconscious. He was worried, about Snape, and about what would happen to him when Snape woke up. He knew he had to address Snape about the trap he had laid, because the longer it took to close around him, the more it would hurt, and he wanted to have the other metaphorical shoe fall as quickly as possible. Snape looked awful though, and Harry could only imagine that he had gone unresponsive from the pain. That had happened to him often enough.

Snape's breath was coming in shuttering gasps. Harry could see numerous little cuts all over him, and his hands were covered in blisters, and there was a rash and it looked like in places, Snape's skin was eaten away. Harry remembered things like that happening to him if certain cleaners got spilled on him.

Harry was brought out of his musings by the door opening, and a woman running it with Nitty trotting behind her. He quickly got up, and the woman looked at him for a moment. Harry hoped she would ignore him. He didn't really want her to pay any attention to him. Shaking her head, she knelt beside Snape, and started doing magic. Harry began wringing his hands. He'd never seen magic performed like this. He'd seen what Nitty did, but that was alright. She wasn't human. This woman was saying funny things, and she had a stick that she moved around. As she did it, Snape began to look better. The cuts, burns, and blisters started going away.

Finally Snape let out a sigh.

"Thank you, Poppy," he said, still without opening his eyes. Then all of a sudden, remembering Harry, he opened his eyes and propped himself up on his hands, looking around until his eyes fell on him. Harry began to quiver with the apprehension building up in him.

"Harry," he said, worried, "are you alright?" Harry nodded. He certainly wasn't going to admit anything in front of this strange woman.

"Harry?" Poppy questioned. "Harry Potter? This is Harry Potter?"

"Yes, woman," Snape snapped at her. Harry flinched. "And don't question anything else if you value your life. There's forces at work here which I don't understand, so the less you have to do with the whole situation the better."

"Alright, Severus," Poppy said, trying to calm him down. She was used to his sharp tongue after Death Eater meetings. The man was impossible then! He always came back in a foul mood, most likely from his pain, and he could be near impossible to handle. She saw his words for what they meant - that if she knew too much, her life would be in danger, and he was simply trying to protect her.

"You can leave now," he said, getting up, and wincing. There was some pain even Poppy wasn't able to take from him. He was stabilized, but the Cruciatus left a residual pain for some time that no one knew how to remove. It was just a fact of life Severus had learned how to deal with. He knew he had bargained for this when he became a Death Eater, and he bargained again when he agreed to spy.

"Alright," Poppy agreed. "You know to call me if you need any further help." Snape just grunted at her and turned his back. Poppy left, closing the door behind her.

.oO-Oo.

Severus' eyes fell on Harry standing there, quivering, eyes wide, wringing his hands like a blasted house elf. He ran his hand over his face and groaned. His temper was at its shortest right now, and Harry couldn't be put off. He wouldn't dream of putting him off. He'd been ignored for so long that no matter how much pain he was in - no matter how much he wanted to lie down and sleep - he had to stay with Harry. He would just have to make very sure that he stayed calm.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Severus said, sitting down on the couch. "Come over here, child." He motioned Harry over tiredly. Slowly and cautiously Harry edged his way near Severus until Severus reached out and brought Harry into his lap. Harry let out a small yelp at the contact, like he had been expecting to be struck. Well, of course he was expecting that! Severus reprimanded himself. He was obviously in pain, and Harry wasn't stupid. Harry knew that people in pain were short tempered. Heck, Harry had seen his short temper with Poppy and would obviously see himself as the next victim.

"I promise I won't hurt you," Severus said, feeling his anger go down as he held Harry. "Are you alright? Really alright?"

"Sir," Harry said, clearly summoning every ouch of courage he had, "I know you don't care about me, and I've fallen into your trap, so you can just start hurting me now. Please." Harry's breath was coming fast now, and he was bordering on a panic attack. Severus summoned a calming potion and handed it to him.

"Drink that, and then explain what you're talking about," he said, still tired, but surprisingly not frustrated. Harry glanced at him warily, but tipped the vial back and drank it.

"Now, tell me what you mean, Harry," Severus said, accepting the vial back. Honestly, the sort of things this child could come up with! Sometimes he just couldn't follow. He least not without an explanation, and then it all made perfect sense. The hell he had been raised in was enough to make anyone come to startling conclusions sometimes.

"I don't know how to start, sir," Harry said.

"Alright," Severus sighed. "Let's take this one step at a time. Why don't you think I care about you? Do you remember telling me that people don't cry unless they care?"

"Yes, I do, sir," Harry stated, careful, Severus noticed, not to lean against him or take any comfort. This wasn't just some idle play for attention, or Harry would be cuddling. No, Harry truly believed what he was saying. Severus would have to find some way to quell this child's insecurities. "I remember, but you were acting."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you laid a trap for me. You made me care about you, and now you're going to start being cruel. And since I have started caring about you, and I know about your trap, you can stop pretending." Severus just took Harry's hand and idly began to trace circles with him thumb while he thought about that information. He wasn't sure why Harry thought that, but apparently he did, and it was tearing him apart.

"Harry," he finally said. "Why do you think I've laid a trap for you?"

"Because you're a Death Eater!" Severus choked back his surprise.

"How do you know about Death Eaters?"

"Nitty told me! But I made her tell me, so don't be angry with her!" Harry slid off Severus' lap and stood in front of him, shaking, waiting to be struck.

"Nitty!" Severus called. He would have to have another talk with her, and this one he'd have in front of Harry. At least the story was beginning to come together now. The little house elf popped next to Harry, who jumped clean off the ground.

"What did you tell Harry about Death Eaters?" he drawled. Honestly, he was keeping his temper very well right now. Even though he knew he was falling into his usual sarcasm, if he did as he felt like doing, he probably would be shouting and storming around. Well, no, not storming around. He was in too much pain for that. Just shouting.

"I's said they was cruel to their elves!" she said, her eyes wide. "And that they do dark magic, and follow You-Know-Who!"

"Then how does Harry come to the conclusion that I'm a Death Eater?" He almost rolled his eyes at Nitty. Honestly, the ineptitude of his elf sometimes! It was enough to make him want to pull his hair on a good day, and right now, if it wasn't for his mental control, he knew he would have lost it. Of course, he really did appreciate her, but sometimes she was just too much.

"You was at a Death Eater meeting, sir!" she squeaked. Then suddenly she seemed to see her mistake.

"Now, Nitty," Severus continued to drawl, "if you would be so kind as to explain to Harry that I may not be, in fact, a Death Eater?"

"Master Severus isn't a Death Eater!" she assured Harry. "He's just a spy! I'm sorry! Master Severus isn't cruel to his elf. And he doesn't like You-Know-Who!"

"Nitty," Severus said, not really concealing his anger, but also not shouting at her, "you know I've sworn you to secrecy on this matter. Why did you speak in such a way to mislead Harry?"

"I's didn't mean to, sir!" Nitty pleaded. Severus sighed, clearly disgusted.

"Of course, of course," he said, desperately trying to reign in his temper. "Just - please - don't talk to Harry about those sort of things. Harry," he said turning to the boy, still very anxious, "do you understand what Nitty said?"

"I think so, sir," he said.

"I'm a spy," Severus said. "I work for Dumbledore, and for the Dark Lord. Harry, you can't possibly understand everything that I have to deal with. Like I said, I live a complicated life. I will not tell you who I really work for. Nitty believes that I am not a Death Eater because I am not cruel to her. The Minister of Magic believes that I am because of this," and Severus pulled back his sleeve, showing Harry the faint outline of the Dark Mark. Harry gasped. "That is what is called the Dark Mark. It's the symbol of the Dark Lord, and his Death Eaters wear it as a tribute to him. I can't tell you who I really serve," Severus said, "because if you knew, both sides would try to kill you. I can't risk your life. I need you to trust me to always love you. I know it's hard, and know you won't be able to right away. I will never do anything to hurt you. I have not laid any trap for you. Everything is as I tell you it is. I care about you. And I am very, very touched that you care about me." He opened his arms to welcome Harry into a hug, and Harry rushed to him. Severus scooped him up, and let him cry into his robes, much as it hurt to move.

Honestly, Severus wasn't really sure who served at the moment either. He remembered asking Lucius to look after Harry if anything happened to him, and maybe if he hadn't been so concerned about dying right then, he would have chosen someone else, but between his fear and his pain-induced delirium, what was done, was done. Due to his unique position, Severus could easily switch sides twenty times in a day and no one but himself would know the difference.

After a few minutes, Harry spoke between choked sobs. "Who is the Dark Lord? Nitty called him You-Know-Who, but I don't know who! She said I should, but I don't!"

"Shh," Severus murmured, stroking Harry's hair, "The Dark Lord is a wizard. Just a wizard. He has followers called Death Eaters, and these followers can be very cruel. Some are worse than others. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are very well known because there was a war that ended ten years ago, when a little boy survived the killing curse. He shouldn't have survived, but he did. And the Dark Lord fell that night. He will return one day, but for the moment he is not here. The Death Eaters continue to meet in his name, and carry out his work, but the Dark Lord is not here right now."

"Who was the little boy? Is he still alive?"

"That little boy," Severus said calmly, "is you. You are that boy, Harry. You brought down the Dark Lord." Harry blinked, and his mouth made an O.

"Should I be sorry?" he asked, puzzled. The Dark Lord was apparently a bad man, but...but...Harry didn't want to be responsible for killing someone!

"No, Harry, you shouldn't be sorry," Severus said, noticing that Harry's tears were drying in the interest of the story. Obviously the Dursleys had never told him. "You weren't responsible for anything that happened that night. No one knows why the curse didn't work on you. No one knows how you survived it, but you did, and the Dark Lord didn't. You didn't mean to kill the Dark Lord. It was an accident no matter what happened. But you are famous. Everyone knows that Harry Potter brought down the Dark Lord on Halloween, ten years ago."

"I'm famous?" Harry was still in awe at the story. How in the world did Snape always know what to say to him?

"Yes, you most certainly are famous," Severus said. "Everyone knows your name, and what happened that night. The side of the Light, as it is called, claims you as their hero, and there are Death Eaters who want to see you dead for what happened that night." Harry had a look of horror on his face. "I won't let this happen," Severus said quickly. "I will never let them touch you. There are other Death Eaters who support me in this. I am not the only one who won't see you harmed at their hands. I am also going to be protecting you from what the Light will do to you as well."

"Everyone wants to hurt me?" Harry asked dejectedly.

"Something like that," Severus drawled, but then reigned in his tongue as Harry flinched. "Harry, there are good people on both sides, and there are bad people on both sides. The good people on both sides will not stand by to see you harmed. The bad people don't care and will hurt you to gain their own ends." That old fool, Dumbledore, why, why, why?! "I will protect you from the bad people on both sides. I promise. It doesn't matter what side I'm on right now. I will not see you hurt." Harry nodded.

"Is that why you came back hurt?" Harry asked quietly.

"Is what why?"

"Because the bad Death Eaters didn't like you protecting me?" Severus sighed.

"Yes, that was essentially it," he agreed. He didn't like the amount of honesty he had going, but Harry had been lied to all his life. Severus concluded that an unhappy truth would be better than a candy-coated lie.

"I should go," Harry stated quickly, getting off Severus' lap, with silent tears rolling down his cheeks. "I can go back to the Dursleys," he volunteered. "That way you won't be protecting me, and they won't hurt you."

"No, Harry," Severus stated, determined. "You will not go back there! You - will - never - go - back! I don't care what happens to me. You will be kept safe."

"But I care about what happens to you," Harry said, still crying. "Everything I care about dies! I can't stay here!" Severus stood up, hiding his painful grimace, and knelt in front of Harry, meeting his eyes.

"I will always do my best to not die," he assured, taking Harry's hands in his own. "I can't promise I won't, but I will try my best. What do you mean that everything you care about dies?"

"My parents!" he almost screamed. "And my mouse!" He reached out and hugged Severus around his neck like he did just before Severus had left for the meeting.

"Shh," Severus whispered, rubbing Harry's back reassuringly. "Your parents were killed by the Dark Lord that night when he tried to kill you. They died trying to save you. They died honorably." Well, not that an eleven year old boy would care about honor. He just wanted his parents.

"See?" Harry whispered. "And they died."

"But it had nothing to do with you caring for them," Severus said. "There were...other reasons why the Dark Lord killed them. They opposed him, and they defied him, and he was determined to see them dead. He knew who they were and he hated them from before you existed. What's this about your mouse?"

"Can I show you?" Harry asked, burrowing his face into Severus' neck.

"Of course," Severus said, picking Harry up, and sitting back on the couch.

.oO-Oo.

The memory wasn't coherent. It was just little flashes, but Severus could sort out what was happening. Harry sat in his cupboard, hugging his knees, when there was a little motion in the corner that caught his attention. Curiosity got the better of his pain, and he began to watch intently. A little mouse poked his nose his out, and scuttled over the floor.

Next Severus saw Harry laying on his bed with the mouse in front of him. Harry was smiling, and running a finger over the mouse's soft fur. The mouse sat there and didn't seem to be afraid of Harry at all.

Then Harry was sitting on his mattress with a small piece of bread. Severus knew it was the only food Harry had gotten all week. But Harry picked a piece off and set it front of his mouse, and the mouse ate the food gratefully.

As certain pieces of knowledge came along with the memory, Severus knew that this sort of thing went on for some time. Harry fed his mouse out of his own meager rations of food, and the mouse lived off of what he could get from Harry. In all ways, the mouse became domesticated.

But then Severus saw Dursley throw Harry into his cupboard and lock the door.

"You're not getting any food for two weeks so don't be expecting any!" Harry began to cry, but it wasn't because he was going to go hungry. No, it was because his mouse was going to go hungry.

Severus saw the mouse peak out and scuttle over to Harry expectantly, but Harry showed the mouse his empty hands, and shook his head silently. He didn't have anything for his mouse. Every day, his mouse came back and silently asked for the food Harry didn't have. Every day, Harry could see his mouse getting thinner and thinner, and then one day, his mouse didn't come out.

He looked in the hole, and saw a cold stiff body, and he cried.

.oO-Oo.

Severus left Harry's mind, and hugged him tightly. There were things about the memory which Severus could infer even though Harry didn't understand. Under normal circumstances, the mouse would never have gotten to know Harry in the first place, and then would have left when Harry didn't have any food for him. But Harry's accidental magic was so strong, he had inadvertently cast a non-dark version of the Imperius, and the mouse had stayed. Harry's love for the mouse had been strong enough to cause his suppressed magic to shine in that strong a way. Severus wasn't going to explain this the Harry - probably not ever - because Harry would take it very hard, because he would see it as though he had killed his mouse.

"Harry, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry your mouse died, please believe me. It had nothing to do with your caring for the mouse. He died because of your uncle. Your parents died because of the Dark Lord, and your mouse died because of your uncle. Not because of you. I promise I will do everything I can to stay alive. I'm good at that - staying alive. I have no intention of dying any time soon."

"I know," Harry said, clinging to Severus' robes in a death grip. "It's just - it's just -"

"It's just that you don't know how to face the thought that I might not be here anymore. You feel vulnerable. You have something to lose now."

"How did you know?" Harry gasped, awed that the man knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Because I feel the same way," Severus returned. "It works both ways, Harry. I really do care about you, and it would be an impossible thought to try to face the world without you now. Caring means being vulnerable." Harry snuggled into his robes, reassured.

"Did Nitty feed you?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"But I got sick after," he said.

"Why did you get sick?" Severus asked, concerned.

"Nitty had told me about the Death Eaters, and I was scared," Harry said.

"Ah, I see," Severus commented. "Do you often throw up when you're upset?"

"I don't often have anything to throw up," Harry murmured, and Severus could feel Harry relaxing, preparing for sleep. Of course the child would have a sensitive stomach! Like Harry so eloquently had pointed out, when he got upset, all he would be able to do at best would be dry heaves.

"Harry, I want you to drink another nutrient potion," he said, summoning and handing him the vial. Harry drank it without protest.

"I'm going to leave you on the couch here, while I go speak to the Headmaster," Severus explained. "I will not be in any danger, I promise." No, the Headmaster would be the one in danger. But he was so sore and tired! Maybe he'd stow his lecture for later. No, he would deliver it now. He was more intimidating when his tongue was sharpened from pain. "Sleep, and I'll be back soon." Harry nodded, and Severus got up, laying the boy down. Severus threw the blanket over Harry, and stumbled out of his rooms.

.oO-Oo.

"Come in!" Albus shouted.

"Headmaster," Severus greeted him, as he limped into his office.

"Severus! Do have a seat. Would you like a lemon drop?"

"No, and no," Severus snapped, determined to sneer the whole time. "There is nothing to report to you about the Death Eater meeting that was just called. As the good little spy I am, I attended even though it meant leaving Harry in the care of my house elf, loath as I am to do that."

"It looks like you've had a particularly hard meeting," Albus commented.

"How very observant," Severus drawled. "Poppy has already healed me. My Death Eater friends took the news of Harry Potter quite hard."

"I can imagine," Albus said. "Who said what? Did you have any support?"

"I promised them I would raise Harry to be a Death Eater, and I had Malfoy's support. Nott and Goyle were openly against it, and where Goyle stands, Crabbe will too. McNair and Avery made no comment either way. I do not know where they stand."

"I could always seek other arrangements for Harry if that would make your meetings easier on you," Albus offered. Okay, now was his cue. Severus lost his temper. He laid his hands on the Headmaster's desk and leaned over, his face inches from the Headmaster's. Yes, this sudden movement hurt like hell, but he needed it for the effect.

"Like sending back to the Dursleys with their precious blood wards?" Severus hissed, fully displaying his anger. If it wasn't that he feared he would be fired, it would have started casting spells at Albus.

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore had the nerve to say. "I still think that he needs the blood wards and his relatives' treatment, horrible though it is."

"That's Snape to you," Severus hissed. He had a feeling his whole half of the conversation would be hissing. "Do you even know what his relatives did to him? Do - you - know?"

"As I told you last time - Snape," Albus said, accenting his name, "Arabella said that there were signs of beatings and malnutrition." Severus sneered at Albus.

"Headmaster," he said with mocking patronization, "that is just the beginning. Do you realize he was tied to a chair and tortured with the smell of food when he was caught eating scraps from the garbage because he was starving? Do you realize that Durlsey has been raping the boy? How can you justify rape, Headmaster? How?"

"I believe it was once said, 'It is better that one man should suffer,'" Albus began.

"Harry is a child! He is not a man! And you had better read your sources before you start quoting them. I believe the person who originally was credited with that was not portrayed as a leader for the Light."

"Would you have me give Harry over to the Malfoys?!" Albus shouted, standing up and glaring at Severus, who didn't back down.

"Yes!" Severus shouted back. It felt good to shout at someone after having kept his temper for so long in front of Harry. "Yes, I would! Malfoy would have taken much better care of him." He wasn't about to tell Albus that Malfoy would get Harry if anything happened to him, if nothing else, because of Malfoy's influence combined with his - Severus' - testimony (in edited memory form, of course).

"Malfoy would raise him to serve Voldemort!"

"I don't care! Malfoy would have respected him as a human!"

"Do you know what it would mean if Harry Potter was a follow of Voldemort?"

"Yes! Your infernal moral code be hanged, Headmaster, Harry will follow the first person to show him kindness now!"

"Exactly, Snape! Which is how we will ensure that he stays on the side of the Light!"

"You don't seem to realize that this is why the Slytherins have such a high Death Eater rate! The Dark Lord was the first one to show us kindness. He told us we were good, and that we were worth something! Unlike you!"

"You will raise Harry to be an asset to the Light, Snape! One iota of evidence that you will make him a Death Eater and will have you shot - metaphorically, of course - at dawn as the spy you are!" Severus sneered, but knew the Headmaster would follow through on his threat.

"Then it's a good thing I have no intentions of making him a mini-Death Eater, isn't it?" he said in a normal volume. He stood up and went over to the door. He spoke with his back to the Albus, his hand on the door knob. "I'm disappointed in you, Headmaster," and he sounded truly sorrowful. Severus saw this as his farewell to the man he known and seen as his mentor for more than the past ten years. "I thought you were someone who, although an eccentric Gryffindor, stood for good. I see I was sorely mistaken. For the second time in my life I have been deceived by a wizard trying to play God. I'm playing a game between a mad wizard and a meddling wizard, and for the first time in my life, I'm not sure which is which."

With that, he threw the door open and stormed out, slamming it behind him.

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat down on the couch next to where Harry was still sleeping. He looked at the boy, and thought of his conversation - no, yelling fest - with Dumbledore. He was shocked - truly and undeniably shaken - that Dumbledore had not shown more compassion for Harry. No, the man wanted to throw Harry back in with his relatives, full well knowing what had gone on.

He thought back to the conversation he and Harry had had. Caring meant being vulnerable. And Severus had cared about Albus. Had. He didn't care about the man anymore. Whatever happened to him was what he deserved. Anyone who could stand back and allow a child to be abused and tortured like that - and advocate sending him back - deserved the worst fate the Dark Lord could dish out.

The thought of returning as a loyal Death Eater and raising Harry as such had seriously occurred to him. But nothing justified the actions of his fellow Death Eaters either. Which side to chose? A side which spoke the right thing openly, and then used methods as evil as one could imagine? Or a side which openly did the evil things? A side which used evil means while deceiving everyone on that side? Or the honestly evil side?

Severus sighed. He couldn't in conscience truly side with either one. He was balancing on the blade of a knife, and Harry's life was in his hands.

Severus laid his hand on Harry's head. He smiled in his sleep. Such a simple thing! Being touched! And Harry felt a terrible loyalty to anyone who would touch him like that. Like he should have been touched all his life. Severus shuttered suddenly.

Harry was loyal to him. To him - Severus! He wouldn't be loyal to Dumbledore. He wouldn't be loyal to the Dark Lord. He would be loyal to Severus. The reality of this was just beginning to hit home. His decision as an individual would decide how Harry chose his beliefs. If his own conscience wasn't hard enough to sort out, now he realized he had another one to look after. And here was a little child, who would believe whatever he told him, at least in time. He had to be sure he made the right choice.

For right now, he would continue as he was. He would play Dumbledore's game, because without it, he would not be able to take care of Harry. If he basically kidnapped Harry, he would be in Azkaban before he would be out of the country. Dumbledore would not stand to see his Golden Boy in his custody.

"Harry?" he whispered, gently.

"Hmm?" came Harry's voice.

"Do you want to come to bed with me? Or do you want to stay here?"

"With you," Harry slurred. "No nightmares."

Severus scooped Harry up, and like last night, collapsed in his day clothes in the bed. He really was going to have to change soon. He still had the snot covered robes from the first day on. Carefully, he reached around Harry and pulled him close. Harry snuggled in close, and Severus threw the blankets over them.

His last conscious thought was, how do mothers handle it without going insane?


	10. At the End of the Day

Severus was in the Dursleys' house again, but at the same time he wasn't there. It felt like being a ghost. He could interact with the people, but he couldn't touch anything. Vernon Dursley was standing opposite him, and Severus was seething in anger.

"Dursley, you animal!" he stormed. "Why did you do it?" Dursley just sneered at him. Severus would have liked to grab him by his shirt, but he couldn't touch anything. "Why?"

Harry came stumbling into the room, with his hoodie, cut off jeans, and socks and paled at the sight of his uncle. He squeaked a bit, because you couldn't call his noises words.

"Get over here, boy," Dursley said, his voice dripping with nastiness. Harry scrambled over to his uncle, but everything about him screamed terror.

"Please, please, no," his whispered, shaking.

"Oh, yes," Dursley leered.

"You said I wouldn't have to come back!" Harry screamed at Severus. "You promised! You said you would take care of me! You said you cared!"

"He doesn't care," Dursley smirked. "He brought you back, remember?"

"You lied to me!" Harry sobbed.

"No, I didn't, Harry!" Severus pleaded. "I don't know why you're here! I came here alone!"

"You brought me!" Harry continued. "You said I was a burden, and a freak, and you brought me back!"

"I wouldn't say that, please believe me! I love you, Harry!"

"If you care about him so much," Dursley interrupted, "why don't you try to save him? Shirt off, boy." Harry did as instructed, but looked at Severus with a combination of accusation and longing. Dursley took a rope and tied Harry's outstretched hands to the ceiling.

"Don't touch him, Dursley!" Severus shouted.

"Oh, I won't," he assured Severus. "Just my belt." He unhooked his belt, and began throwing lashes at Harry, who visibly bit down on his tongue. Severus tried to get between Harry and his uncle, but the belt past right through him without any sign that he was there.

"See? You can't do a thing," Dursley taunted. Severus glared at him, and tried to untie the ropes, but he couldn't touch them.

Then the scene abruptly changed, and Severus saw Dursley laying naked on top of Harry in a bed. Harry cried softly, but made no other sound.

"Please no!" Severus cried. "Stop! What do you want? I'll do anything you want!"

"Petunia said you never begged for anything," Dursley said with satisfaction. "I have what a want."

.oO-Oo.

"Sir!" Harry cried. He touched Severus gently. "Sir?" Severus shuttered and sat up. He sighed, relieved, and hugged Harry close. Harry yelped at the unexpected contact.

"I'm sorry," Severus apologized, but didn't let Harry go. That had been the worst nightmare he'd ever had. Every other nightmare had always been himself on the receiving end of the nightmarish occurrences. He realized now that it could be much, much worse.

"You had a nightmare," Harry explained. Well of course he had. Did Harry think he didn't know?

"Yes, yes," he agreed hastily. "I just have to make sure you're real. I have to know I can touch you." Well, Harry didn't understand the comments, but accepted the physical contact.

"You were asking someone to stop something," Harry continued, leaning into Severus' grasp.

"Yes, I know," Severus said. "If you expect me to explain the dream to you, then I think you'll be waiting a long time."

"It was about me, wasn't it?" Harry accused. Severus nodded, but still didn't volunteer anything.

"I shouldn't be here," Harry muttered. "I'm causing you all this trouble. You don't have to keep me."

"You should be here," Severus countered. "I want to keep you. Any trouble that results from it is worth it. You are worth everything life can dish out."

"How?"

"Wouldn't you have done anything you could to save your mouse?" Severus hated bringing that little story up, but he had to make a point.

"Of course!"

"You're right, of course. You fed your mouse with food you should have been eating. You were willing to suffer for your mouse, weren't you?" Harry nodded. "And I'm willing to do the same for you. I will do anything to save you from anything that will hurt you. You would rather have suffered and kept your mouse than to give him up. I would rather suffer for you and keep you safe than to give you up. It's almost morning anyway. I'll get you some breakfast." They both slipped out of the bed, and they went to the kitchen.

As they sat down, two bowls of rice cereal popped into existence on the table. Harry jumped, but smiled at it. And Severus rolled his eyes at the obvious and non-tactful display of magic. Harry looked down.

"Peaches?" he whispered with wide eyes and an open mouth. "There are peaches on it!"

"Yes, it appears Nitty put peaches on the cereal this morning," Severus agreed.

"I've never had peaches," Harry continued to whisper in awe.

"I gathered as much," Severus drawled slightly, with a little smirk at Harry's expression. He was glad he could help the boy. "Eat up." They continued to eat, and Harry ate his usual half-bowl, with emphasis on the peaches.

"I take it you like them?" Severus asked when they were finished.

"Yes, sir!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"I'll ask Nitty to put peaches and some other fruits on your cereal then, and you can find out which ones you like the best." Severus doubted Harry would dislike any food, seeing as he had had so little of it. Severus sat back and studied Harry for a few moments.

"I think I need to get you some new clothes," he finally observed. Really, the boy's clothes were atrocious, and Severus had to face the reality of the situation, and start fixing more than Harry's psyche.

"Oh, no," Harry said, shaking his head quickly. "These are fine."

"Perhaps for a homeless tramp," Severus said, raising an eyebrow. "But not for anyone I'm taking care of. Tell me, where did you get your glasses?" Severus seriously doubted that Harry had ever been to a doctor.

"I got them out of a rubbish bin," Harry muttered, looking down. "I was taking out the trash, and the neighbors had them in a pile of stuff, so I took them, and they helped a bit. I was having trouble seeing things, and I was allowed to keep them." Well, at least he was allowed to keep them, even if they were undoubtedly the wrong prescription. If they helped, perhaps he had avoided some injuries.

"I'm going to shrink some of my clothes for you," Severus began, "so that we can go get you some decent clothes and proper glasses for you, alright?"

"But I really don't need it," Harry objected.

"Then will you let me do it for you anyway?" He'd argue with the statement directly later. Right now all he needed was Harry's cooperation.

"But it costs money," Harry tried to argue. He didn't need these things, and he didn't want Snape paying for them.

"That's right," Severus agreed. "And I have plenty of that. If nothing else, being a spy pays excellently. I get payed by both the Headmaster and the Dark Lord. I would like to spend the money on you. Will you let me? Please?" Harry began to breathe faster.

"Calm down, Harry," Severus said. "Come here." Harry came over, and Severus plopped him in his lap. "I promise you won't have to pay me back for them - in any way. I will not ask for money, or chores. I will not rape you. I just want to give you the things you deserve. Yes, you deserve them. Don't even try to argue that. I love you, and this is what I want to do. Please let me?" This conversation felt so wrong. Why should he have to assure a child he would not rape him? He wanted to shake his head in disgust. Finally, Harry nodded.

"And will you let me get you new glasses?" he asked. "You'll be able to see better. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes, sir," he said. Severus smiled at him, and hugged him close.

Oh, goodness, this little boy was turning him into a Hufflepuff.

.oO-Oo.

"Here's some new clothes, Harry," Snape said, handing him a black t-shirt and jeans, which he had shrunk outside of Harry's presence. Of course Harry knew what Snape had done. He knew that Snape had used magic to do it, and he also knew Snape had chosen to do it away from him because Snape was trying to respect his skittishness around magic. Harry hated how he felt about magic. At some level, he knew it was alright, because Snape was doing it. But he still felt uncomfortable around any human doing it. He had been punished too much for it to like magic.

Snape had changed into some more normal looking clothes himself. Similar to the ones he had just handed Harry. A black shirt and jeans, but he had a pair of black boots as well.

"Thank you," Harry said, looking up with grateful eyes.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything more colorful," Snape said. "I don't have anything outside black or grey, really."

"It's wonderful!" Harry assured him. Did Snape really think that there was something wrong with them? He honestly didn't care about the color. Color had nothing to do with how well the clothes kept him warm or stayed on.

"I put some shoes and socks over there for you too," Snape said, pointing to a corner which held a pair of red trainers, also shrunk to his size.

"I'll let you slip into those, then," Snape said, leaving the room, and closing the door behind him.

Quickly, Harry took his hoodie and jeans off and put on the t-shirt and jeans, slipping into his shoes and socks. The shoes felt very odd. He never wore shoes, and so his feet felt a bit confined. But really, the rest of it was just great! The shirt and the pants fit! He had a feeling of security that he didn't have in his other clothes. He imagined it came from the fact that his uncle had more than once grabbed his clothes, and in an effort to get away, they had come off, leaving him exposed. He really didn't think these clothes would come off readily unless he wanted them to.

He looked down at the scars on his arms, and was slightly dismayed that his sleeves didn't cover them. He didn't want anyone to see. But he certainly wasn't going to complain, because it was the best shirt he'd ever had! He left the empty room, and found Snape sitting in the kitchen, reading a newspaper.

"All ready?" Snape asked. Harry smiled at him, and Snape smiled back.

"Here, drink this before you go," he said, handing Harry a vial. "It's a combination nutrient potion and calming potion. You may need the calming potion for this outing." Harry drank it, but Snape continued. "I will not let anyone hurt you while we are out. You will be with me the whole time. Other people may touch you, but you will not be hurt by them, I promise."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Alright, let's get going. Harry, I need to know - which way would you prefer traveling? I can take you in a way called apparation. That was how we got here a few nights ago. But I can't disapparate with you here. We would have to leave the school grounds first. Or we can go through the fireplace. Which would you like?"

Harry swallowed and looked nervous. Honestly, he didn't like the sound of either. Disappearing, well, that was just straight up magic, and fireplaces were scary places. How often had he been burned in a fireplace as a punishment? He had lost count long ago. He didn't know which to chose, but Snape was really trying to look out for him.

"I don't know," he finally said. "Can you chose?"

"No," Snape said. "I need you to start thinking about what you want to do. It's quite a simple choice, I believe, so just chose. Pick one."

"I won't be hurt in the fireplace?" he asked warily.

"No," Snape said. "I'll throw a powder into the fire which will make the flames not hurt you."

"The fireplace then," Harry said. It was at least only dealing with magic things, instead of real magic, and no one in the school would see him. If they had to leave the school, maybe they'd run into someone else, and he didn't want anyone at the school to see him, at least not yet.

"Good choice," Snape said, but Harry thought he would have said it no matter what he chose, and Harry was quite right. "Before we go, would you like a jacket?" Snape held out a little gray coat. "It might be a little chilly," he said, but glancing at his arms, Harry knew Snape had known how he would feel about his scars. He smiled gratefully, and accepted the jacket. Snape smiled knowingly back at him. Harry was glad Snape had not mentioned the real reason.

After he put it on, Snape laid a hand on his shoulder, and grabbing some powder, threw it into the fire.

"Hog's Head, Hogsmeade!" he called loudly. Applying some pressure to Harry's shoulder, they stepped through the fireplace. Harry felt a whirling sensation, but Snape's hand never left his shoulder.

.oO-Oo.

Severus was impressed with how well Harry was handling everything. He had seen how Harry looked at his arms after he had changed, and cursed himself for his thoughtlessness in picking a t-shirt. Quickly, he had shrunk a jacket when Harry had looked away and had given it to him, trying to remedy the situation as best he could.

He and Harry stepped out of the Hog's Head fireplace. The place was quite empty, since it was still early in the morning, although there were a couple people loitering around. Harry sucked in his breath and stiffened as he took the place in.

"Everything will be fine, Harry," Severus said, softly. "I'm right here, and I promise nothing will happen." Harry nodded, and they walked out of the restaurant, with several pairs of eyes watching them intently. Severus inwardly huffed. Rumors would be flying before the end of the day.

It was slightly chilly, but not unpleasantly so. It wouldn't take long, and the heat of the day would be upon them. Thankfully, there was no threat of rain or any storms that day.

"Would you like to get your clothes or your eyes checked first?" Severus asked. He wanted to give Harry as many little choices as possible. It would develop his ability to live everyday life before the school year. He should start giving Harry choices of what to eat. The sorting feast was only a month away and there would be more food there and anyone would know what to do with. Even well loved children had a hard time choosing at that feast.

"Harry?" Severus eventually said, when he hadn't gotten any reaction for a few minutes. "Are you alright?" Harry nodded at him.

"It - it's beautiful," Harry gasped. "I've never been farther than the end of the Dursleys' driveway." He looked up at Severus warily.

"I know," Severus said. "We can go anywhere else you like as well, in addition to getting you clothes and glasses." Well, it was worth a try. Severus didn't think Harry would take him up on the offer, but it was still worth it.

"No, thank you!" Harry whispered quickly, still awed by being outside in a town.

"Have you decided which you want to do first?"

"The glasses," Harry said eventually.

"Alright," Severus said, content to leave the reasoning of the decision to Harry unless he volunteered it.

.oO-Oo.

"Hello, Mr. Snape!" the receptionist at the optometrist said. "What can we do for you today?"

"I would like to have his eyes checked," Severus said, gesturing to Harry.

"Name?" the receptionist said.

"Harry Potter," Severus sighed, but glared at the woman, daring her to challenge the name. Thankfully, she had the good sense not to after that glare. Any questions died in her throat, and Severus looked satisfied.

"Then please, will you and Mr. Potter follow me back here? It is early enough that our healer is still available, even though you didn't make an appointment." She added the last bit with a slightly accusing tone. Severus let it pass, for Harry's sake.

They were escorted into a dark back room, where Severus and Harry waited for a minute.

"Harry," he said, "the healer will have to use magic to determine how good your eyes are. Please don't be too nervous. Everything will be fine. The healer knows what he's doing. I will be right here, and I can assure you, I'm good at defense, and I won't let him hurt you. The spell will tingle in your eyes a bit, but that will be it."

"Yes, sir," Harry said stiffly.

"Are you nervous because of the dark?" Severus asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry said after a moment's hesitation. "Too many places for people to hide."

"I will assure you, no one is hiding here. It has to be dark for your eyes to adjust for the healer to make a proper assessment." There was a knock, and the healer came in.

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Snape?" he inquired, but didn't wait for an answer. "I'm Healer Gordon, and I'm here to check Mr. Potter's eyes?"

"Yes, that is correct," Severus answered. "Please be as brief as possible."

"Of course," Gordon replied. He cast some spells, most of which lit up the room in quick flashes of colored light, and Harry sat stock still, eyes open, not making a sound. A few minutes later, he had finished the exam.

"He is an extreme myopic," the healer said. "I recommend getting strong lenses for him, with a spell against scratches and shattering."

"Then so be it," Severus said. "Can you have the lenses ready in a few hours?"

"Yes, of course," Gordon replied. "Would you like to pick out the frames now?"

"Harry?" Severus said, turning to him. "Would like you pick them out?"

"I - I can chose?"

"Yes, of course," Gordon said, not understanding.

"Please, let me handle this," Severus said, slightly annoyed. Infernal God-playing doctors, healers, whatever you call them, they were all the same, thinking they knew everything.

"Harry," he said, "You don't have to chose if you don't want to. But I think you should chose."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "I can do it." His voice wasn't nearly as confident as his words.

"Then let's go have a look," Severus said, getting up and leading Harry to where there was more light, and the choices of frames were on display.

"How about this one?" Harry said quickly, grabbing a pair that looked similar to his old ones. Severus suppressed a grimace. He did not want Harry wearing those atrocious frames like his father had worn.

"Are you picking that because it looks like your old ones?" Severus questioned, and Harry nodded. "You can feel free to pick other ones if you want." Harry took a second look at the rack, but seemed dismayed at his number of choices.

"How about these?" Severus asked, picking out some narrow rectangle plastic frames. They were brown, and looked nothing like the round wire frames of his father.

"Those are nice," Harry sincerely agreed. "How expensive are they?"

"That doesn't matter," Severus pushed the question aside. "Do you like them?"

"Yes," Harry gasped. "Do you really mean it? That I can have them?"

"Of course," Severus said, and he smiled at a Harry - just a bit, not enough to ruin his reputation more than it already was. Well, his reputation was just straight up shot, and he knew it. No need to do overkill though.

"I - I can't," Harry suddenly said, looking crestfallen.

"Why ever not?"

"I'm just not good enough for it, sir," Harry said, and Severus could feel the amount of sincerity in the statement. Harry honestly believed it, and he was willing Severus to understand it. He knelt down in front of Harry, and laid his hand on Harry's cheek.

"Harry, listen to me," he said. "You are good enough for it. You are good enough for everything I can possibly get you, and then some. Why don't you think you're good enough?"

"They're pretty," Harry whispered. He then laid his hand on his forearm, not willing to explain what he meant further, but Severus understood. Harry, obviously, thought himself ugly, starved and scarred, and not worth something as good as a simple pair of glasses. He thought they were pretty. And he was not.

"Harry," Severus said, trying again. "I have something to show you when we get back. I can't show you now, but I will later. Will you trust me, and get these now? I promise what I have to show you will convince you otherwise. If it doesn't, we can bring these back, alright?" He was laying a lot on a gamble, and he knew it, but he had to.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, clearly skeptical. Without breaking eye contact, Severus handed the frames to Gordon, who accepted them. He hadn't understood anything that had passed, but knew better than to ask either, for which Severus was grateful.

They left the building, and Severus steered Harry into a clothing store close by. It was a fairly average clothing store which Severus felt would have normal clothes for a wizarding boy of Harry's age. It wasn't like he knew anything about fashionable clothes. Even with his Slytherins, they tended to just wear whatever, without getting too upset about it. They didn't really care if people made snide remarks about their clothing, since people usually preferred to make the remarks about them personally and ignore the clothes.

Severus heard Harry's intake of breath as they stepped in. The store was reasonably full of people, and Harry was nervous about that at the same time as he was still wonder struck by the town and the stores. Severus felt a pang of sorrow that a child should be so impressed at a simple outing. Severus noticed that the store was organized by size and color, so assessing Harry's size quickly, he brought the child to the proper section.

"What is your favorite color, Harry?" Severus asked.

"Favorite color?" Harry questioned, looking confused. "Um, blue I guess, sir. Blue with some black."

"Alright," Severus consented, and showed Harry the blue clothes first.

They spent a couple hours working on picking out the clothes. Severus saw to it that Harry did most of the picking out, and he saw to it that Harry got everything he needed. He got a complete wardrobe that day, complete with several colors. The touchiest issue was picking out a belt, for obvious reasons. Severus had considered simply picking pants that didn't need a belt, but Harry's school uniform would require one, and so he felt he should get Harry used to wearing one as soon as possible.

Harry's eyes had gone wide at the suggestion that he needed to get himself a belt, and he'd shaken his head mutely. It had taken Severus a few minutes to calm Harry down, and explain to him what the proper function of a belt was. Severus had to promise thoroughly never to use it to beat Harry. Finally, Harry had relented his opposition, whether because it had stopped, or because Harry saw it was fruitless, Severus didn't know, and the belt had been added to the pile. They took it to the counter, and Severus paid the bill.

"Harry," he said, "I'm going to shrink these packages so they all fit in my pocket. I'm going to use my wand, and I'm going to perform a spell. Is that alright?" The woman at the counter looked at them like they belonged in St. Mungo's. Well, Severus agreed, he probably did, judging by his actions of the last week. Harry nodded weakly. So Severus did so.

"We need to go back and get your glasses, and then we can go back to my rooms," Severus said. "I know you're tired, and I don't want to wear you out too much."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

In a few moments, they were back in the other building, and Severus had claimed the glasses made for Harry.

"Take your old ones off," he instructed, and Harry obeyed. Severus knelt down, and carefully placed the glasses on Harry's face.

"I - I can see," Harry gasped. "I can see everything!" The look on Harry's face had been worth every galleon he had paid. His jaw had dropped and he was looking around the room with excitement.

"Try not to have a heart attack," Severus drawled slightly, but clearly amused.

"Thank you, sir, thank you!" Harry whispered. "Are you sure...?"

"Am I sure what?" Severus pressed, still meeting Harry's eyes. It was amazing how much the change in glasses had improved his resemblance to his mother. Those old glasses were what made him look like James Potter. And the hair, but Severus could live with that.

"Are you sure...that these are right for me?" Harry blushed, not having ended the sentence the way they both knew he had originally meant.

"Harry, do you remember what I told you before?"

"Yes, sir."

"Just trust me that you are right for them until we get back. I will you something then, I promise."

.oO-Oo.

They had just flooed back from Hogsmeade, and Harry stumbled as he exited the fireplace. Only this time it was from sheer exhaustion, and not from not seeing something. Despite that, though, Harry looked at Severus expectantly.

"You want me to show you now?" Severus guessed.

"Yes, sir." Severus sighed. He had envisioned waiting until he was tireder so this wouldn't be as hard for him. But Harry wanted it now, and he would show him now, hard though it was. He sat down on the sofa, and motioned Harry over, indicating that Harry should sit on his lap. Harry complied. After a minute of intense thought, Severus began to speak.

"Do you remember me asking about the scars on your arms?" Severus began. Stupid question, but it was a place to start.

"Yes, sir."

"And do you remember my look that, well, scared you? The one I didn't mean to give? When you said you had done it?"

"Yes, sir." Severus sighed. How to continue?

"Well, Harry," he said. "This is very difficult to explain. When I was a child, my father beat me." Harry gasped. Clearly not information Harry had suspected. "He beat me because he said that I was a freak." Harry winced at the words. "Yes, Harry, in that way, my story isn't that much different than yours. My mother was a witch, but she didn't tell my father until they were married. And then I was born, and my father hoped that I would be a Muggle like he was, but when it proved I wasn't, he didn't take kindly to me.

"And, you see, that...that didn't sit well with me. I didn't feel that I was worth anything, because I had let him down, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. So, I took a knife, and I would cut myself, because, well, because..." Severus felt his voice faltering. He realized there wasn't a real reason. Not anything he could articulate. He couldn't explain how the pain had been a relief for him when all Harry had known was pain. Harry wouldn't be able to understand. He slipped Harry off his lap, stood up and pulled his own shirt off.

"This is what I wanted to show you, Harry," Severus said. He turned his back so Harry could see the scars his father had inflicted. Then he knelt down and showed Harry the scars he had inflicted, those many years ago.

"We're very much the same, Harry," Severus finally said, when it was clear that Harry wasn't going to. He put his shirt back on. He had never - ever - shown anyone his scars. Poppy had seen them because of how often he ended up in the infirmary, but she was the only one who had, other than Lily that one afternoon, who had seen his arm. "I want you to realize that."

Replacing his shirt, he sat back down on the sofa, but didn't motion Harry to take his usual place. Severus was afraid that Harry would be disgusted by him - and then he realized that these were the very feelings he was trying to alter in the boy. Blast, he'd have to alter his own way of thinking about himself before he could change Harry. So he motioned Harry over again, and Harry did so without hesitation.

"You are very much worth it, Harry," Severus said. "Something I've been realizing since you entered my life is that we will either sink or swim together. We both need to think of ourselves better. I think we both see it in each other, but we need to see it in ourselves too. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "If I'm not worth the new clothes and glasses, than neither are you. And if you are, then so am I." There was an expectant look on Harry's face. Severus nodded.

"Do you have any questions?" Severus asked. Sure, they would all probably be very uncomfortable questions, but maybe it would help Harry in some way. "You may ask all the questions you like."

"Do you really think you aren't worth nice things?" Harry blurted out, blushing at the same time. Severus felt his gaze drop, and his expression twist into a thoughtful one.

"I'm rethinking it now," he admitted. "But yes, up until a few moments ago, yes, I did. I think - for the very same reasons you do."

Harry began to cry, and leaned into Severus, who accepted him without question.

"I'm sorry if showing you this upset you," Severus said. "I didn't mean to upset you." Harry shook his head.

"Didn't upset me," Harry managed to choke out.

"You certainly look upset," Severus smirked. "If this isn't upset, I'd hate to see what is." He said it very gently though, and Harry didn't not feel offended by it.

"You understand," Harry sobbed after a few minutes. "You understand."

"Yes, I do, Harry," he whispered, as he ran his fingers through James' mop of hair. "I will always understand." He bent his head over and laid a chaste kiss into Harry's hair. Was this what it felt like to be a father? It was the closest he would ever come, that was for sure.

"At the end of the day, Harry, we have seen a lot of the same things," he said. "And I want you to know that I will understand everything you can tell me. There's nothing I haven't seen before. I want you to trust me with these things, because I will understand. Not everyone will, but I will. I promise."


	11. The Problem of Trust

Harry clung to him like a little monkey, but Severus really didn't mind. How could he? Harry had been through so much, and was just now beginning to cope with it. Severus ran his fingers through Harry's mop of hair, and did his best to comfort Harry in anyway possible. Finally, after a long time, Severus moved Harry's grip a little bit.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked, looking into his green teary eyes.

"You understand!" Harry blurted again, and his arms wrapped around Severus' neck. He began to cry again.

"Yes, yes, I understand," Severus snorted softly, wrapping his arms around Harry in return. "Do you think you could stop long enough to eat something?" He laughed softly. Harry just nuzzled his neck a bit, and Severus thought he felt Harry shake his head somewhere in there. Severus sighed, still slightly amused. He would have died if anyone would have told him that he would be comforting a crying child - and enjoying it. Honestly, he did like it when Harry sought out his comfort. It made him feel needed - wanted.

"We need to get you on a regular meal schedule," Severus continued, even though Harry still sobbed on his shoulder. "You've been missing too many meals, even here. You're still a skeleton, and that's not very healthy." By the end of the sentence, Severus noticed that Harry's grip had loosened, and his breathing was regulated. Harry had fallen asleep on him. Again!

Severus couldn't help smirking at the image. An undersized eleven year old - a firstie - clinging him for deal life, sobbing his soul out on him, and him accepting this. It was a good thing no one was here to witness this. He didn't care who it was - even Minerva or Lucius - he didn't want anyone seeing how he treated Harry. It just wasn't something he wanted anyone misunderstanding. If anyone saw it, they might actually think he had a heart, or had feelings. It was going to be hard enough to maintain his cold dungeon bat mask as it was without over the top displays of affection.

Severus suddenly realized that he felt better having told someone about his own past - having shown someone his own scars. Perhaps Minerva was right. Perhaps this little boy was helping him cope as much as he was helping Harry. Harry was holding him accountable for his own thoughts.

.oO-Oo.

Harry woke up, his face still buried in Snape's clothes. He knew he'd fallen asleep on the man - again - and his first thought was absolute terror that Snape would be angry for all his tears and then falling asleep. But he felt the strong warm arms still around him, and his panic came down a few notches. Well, he was still scared, but he wasn't about to start blathering out of his terror.

"Awake, Harry?" Snape whispered, and Harry nodded. "Do you think you could eat now? It's the middle of the afternoon, and I still want you to eat supper too."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Picking the child up, Snape carried Harry into the kitchen where he set Harry down in his chair at the table. Nitty popped a bowl of fruit on the table. What Harry didn't know was that Snape had asked Nitty for this for multiple reasons. First, Snape wanted to know which fruits Harry liked the best. Second, he wanted Harry to finally take some food for himself. And third, he wanted Harry to chose.

Harry, on the other hand, felt overwhelmed. There was so much fruit in the bowl, and none of it had been given to him! He didn't know what to do, so he looked up at Snape with a pleading look.

"You may take whatever you want from the bowl," Snape instructed. "Try the different fruits and see which ones you like the best." Harry nodded, and reached a wary hand out, watching Snape as he did so.

He had never taken any food for himself before! Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had stolen scraps before when he was very literally starving, but that was different. It had been thrown out, and he had been desperate. This was good food, not thrown out, and he wasn't even really hungry. But Snape just smiled at him a bit as he grabbed a strawberry.

"That's right," Snape whispered as he pulled it away from the bowl. "Now put the red part in your mouth. Don't eat the green part." Harry did as he was instructed. He tasted an explosion of water and flavor unlike he had ever tasted before. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes as he savored it. Mmm, that was the best thing he'd ever had! He never wanted it to end. But eventually, out of reflex, he swallowed the berry, and opened his eyes, to see Snape's very amused face. Snape reached out and took his own blueberries, inviting Harry to take something more.

"I want you to take everything you can hold," he said. "Please, take anything you want." Harry continued to try the different fruits, sometimes needing prompting to take the fruit, but after the meal, unusual though it was, Harry was much more confident in taking and choosing his own food. Still not anywhere near normal, but progress was made. Little steps at a time.

"Was that Nitty's Exploding Snap game on the floor when I came back from my meeting?" Snape asked, when the food had disappeared.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, contentedly full. He had liked all the fruits, of course, but he doubted anything would ever be as good as peaches and strawberries.

"Did Nitty show you how to play?"

"Yes, sir!"

"How about we play a game?"

.oO-Oo.

Severus was desperate to keep Harry occupied. The day had already had so much happen - a trip to get glasses and clothes, then his revelation, and an emotional breakdown, on top of training Harry to take and chose his food - but Severus didn't want to ignore Harry, not for one minute. Harry needed to know he was wanted, and right now, even a minute could break his heart. The child obviously wouldn't know how to amuse himself. Unlike Nitty, Severus was acutely aware that Harry didn't know how to play. Severus also realized that this was something that he might never be able to fully remedy. Harry would always need to see some very specific and definitely goal in his play. There would have to be an organization and a structure for him to feel secure. Harry, Severus realized, would never be able to play with toy dragons and castles, making up the rules as he went along. Not like he had seen Draco do so many times. Harry would need rules and a structure to the game to guide his play.

So he suggested a game. He vaguely remembered seeing Nitty's cards spread out on the floor, so he thought Harry might know how to play. It was a fairly simple game, more luck than skill, so he and Harry would be on an equal level playing. He borrowed Nitty's cards, with her profound approval, and he and Harry played for some time.

Severus found it surprisingly enjoyable. He was interacting with Harry without Harry either scaring the living daylights out of him with stories or crying his eyes out all over his clothes. It was a pleasant change.

"Are you happy here?" Severus asked abruptly, trying to trick a truthful answer out of Harry. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to do, but he needed to know for sure.

"Yes, sir!" Harry said quickly, and then he blushed. "I mean, it's very nice, sir, and, well - "

"The first answer is perfectly acceptable," Severus said, chuckling a bit.

Nitty popped in, next to his elbow, and Harry jumped in surprise. He didn't seem dismayed by the open displays of Nitty's magic, so Severus had let them go. Admittedly, Nitty's infernal popping in and out would surprise most people. She was particularly active.

"Supper's ready, Masters!" she announced. "Is you?"

"Of course, Nitty," Severus answered, clearing away the cards. "Here are your cards back, and I heartily thank you for loaning them to me."

"You's welcome, Master Severus!" she grinned, and caused the food to appear in front of them. Their plates were covered in mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs, and well done carrots.

To his dismay, Severus saw that Harry didn't touch his food right away. So Severus picked up his fork, hoping that would encourage Harry to do the same, but it didn't.

"Harry, you can eat," he gently said.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said as he looked at the food. "I've eaten so much today..." His voice drifted off at the end.

"You've hardly picked at your food," Severus corrected. "It's not your fault that you've been starved for ten years, but the amount of food you've eaten today would make a fasting monk go hungry."

"But, sir," Harry said, begging him with his eyes, "I just can't."

"Alright, I won't make you," Severus agreed. "But I want you to drink a nutrient potion, and some liquids instead." Harry looked at him with relief. Summoning the desired items, he handed Harry the nutrient potion, which Harry drank. Then he handed him a mug. Knowing how Harry would undoubtedly feel if he made him eat, Severus wasn't going to push the issue too hard. But he would make sure that Harry stayed hydrated - and drink his nutrients too.

"Be careful, it's hot," Severus said. Harry took the mug very cautiously by the handle and looked at it.

"Is it - " he began.

"It's hot chocolate," Severus said. This way, he was still getting calories into the boy.

"But - but - " Harry began to protest. "But I'm not - "

"Don't even finish that thought, young man," Severus said with mock severity. "I thought we agreed you were worth everything I could give you?"

"Where is your hot chocolate?" Harry asked. "We agreed that what I was worth, you were too."

"Alright, fine," Severus sighed, almost smiling. He didn't usually indulge in sweets. Summoning another mug, he had his cup as well, and only then did Harry begin to drink.

"It's so sweet!" Harry gasped after his first sip. He smiled, and Severus smiled back.

.oO-Oo.

After supper was completely finished, Severus leaned back in his chair. This was going to be an extremely delicate situation, but he couldn't keep putting it off. And honestly, considering the extremely delicate situations he'd successfully dealt with in the past, maybe it wouldn't go as badly as he feared.

Harry needed a bath. The child was just living in dirt. Severus doubted Harry was ever allowed to use a bath or shower. But he was also aware of how rape victims usually felt. He had a pretty good hunch that Harry felt that way. His self-esteem could hardly go any lower, and Harry was dirty, in a purely physical way.

Severus didn't want to make Harry feel like he was dirty or inadequate in any other way. He certainly wasn't looking forward to this! But he couldn't let Harry go without a bath any longer than he already had. He had to make sure that Harry understood that there was nothing wrong with him, yet get the boy clean.

"Harry," he said, casually, "would you like to take a bath tonight?" Harry's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped in a look of horror. "I'm thinking that's a no..." Severus said after a moment.

"Please, sir," Harry whimpered, "please no." It sounded so much like how he begged his uncle not to beat or rape him and Severus sucked in his breath, and felt his heart begin to break. Severus never wanted to be the cause of such a whimper, even with his students when he intimidated them. Harry began to shake and it looked like he was about to cry.

"Calm down, Harry," Severus said quickly. "I promise I won't hurt you." Harry just nodded, but didn't look like he believed it. Severus got up and knelt down next to Harry's chair. "I promise," he said again, ignoring the small recoil Harry gave away. Harry didn't respond.

"You're afraid of something," Severus said, searching Harry's face with his eyes. "What are you afraid of?"

"Don't make me take a bath," Harry whispered, deathly quiet and pleading. "Please."

"You're afraid of the bath," Severus stated. "Why? Did something happen?" Harry looked at the floor and nodded, biting his lip. Severus sighed.

"Come here," he said, and Harry stood up. Severus sat down where Harry had just been, and pulled him up into his lap. "Care to tell me about it?" Harry just shook his head, and his breath was hitching.

"Will you show me?" Severus asked softly. And Harry nodded as he leaned his head on Severus' heart, being comforted by the rhythmic beating.

.oO-Oo.

"You're a filthy little freak!" Dursley screamed at a ten-year-old Harry, who winced at every word. Dursley stepped very close to Harry, and his voice was low and menacing. "Now don't think I'm going to do this very often," he said, "but I can't have you stinking up the house, so you're going to get a bath." Harry scuttled upstairs to the bathroom, where his uncle had already begun to fill the tub.

"I - I can do it myself, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, terrified, but more scared of what would happen if his uncle were there.

"You're so dirty, I'm going to have to do it for you," his uncle sneered.

"Yes, sir," Harry whimpered, his breathes ragged with suppressed tears. Harry began to undress himself and by the time the bath was full, Harry was ready. Dursley grabbed him by the shoulders - the much too thin shoulders - and pushed him into the tub. Harry let out a yelp of surprise, but was plunged, head and all, into the water.

The water was near boiling, it felt. The water burned him all over, and then his head was covered too, and he didn't open his eyes and he couldn't breathe. His uncle was holding him down, and he knew better than to struggle. He just lay there, trying to distract his himself from the burning in his lungs. He wanted to fight his way to the surface so badly, but knew he couldn't. Finally, his brain began screaming for oxygen so loudly that he began a mild struggle to regain the surface.

Thankfully, his uncle let him up, and he gasped for air, coughing, water dripping into his face. The water was still incredibly hot, but he was glad he was able to breathe at least. Dursley grabbed a shower brush and began scrubbing Harry's appendages with full force. He scrubbed until Harry bled, despite, or rather it seemed, encouraged by, Harry's weak protests.

.oO-Oo.

"You're dirty on the inside, so maybe this will fix it," was all he said. Harry began to silently cry at the comment. He knew he was dirty, but he still hated to hear it.

"Harry," Severus whispered. "I promise I won't hold you under, and I promise the water won't burn you."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, a loose tear running down his cheek.

"You're not dirty, not on the inside," Severus said, taking Harry by the chin and forcing him to look at him. "You're not. That was a cruel thing for your uncle to say. It's not true. I know you feel like it is, but it isn't. I just want to help you get some of the sweat and dust off you. Nothing more. I won't scrub you if it hurts. I'll just use a washcloth, nothing more. Will you trust me?" He let his hand release Harry's chin and run through his hair.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, still terrified.

"Here's a calming potion," Severus said, handing him the vial. "I can't have you living on this stuff much longer, but this one time won't hurt." Harry drank it, and his shaking went down.

"Ready for the bath?" Severus said softly in Harry's ear.

"Yes, sir," he whispered back.

.oO-Oo.

"Harry," Severus said as Harry came in the bathroom. "I won't leave you alone when you're bathing, because you're still going to be very accident prone." He didn't want to say that Harry was too weak to be left alone. The poor boy would be in pieces at his feet in moments if he said that. "I promise I will not touch you unless you either give me permission or I need to for your safety. Is that alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, and his face spoke otherwise. Undoubtedly, Harry was afraid that Severus wouldn't keep his word. But Severus had always done as he had said before, so Harry reminded himself that there was a possibility that he meant that as well. In a few moments, Harry was ready for the bath, but still seemed terrified, even with the potion coursing through his veins.

"You can touch the water before you get in," Severus said. "If it's too hot or too cool, let me know and I will change the temperature for you." Harry nodded and put his hand in the water.

"Is it alright?" Severus asked.

"Yes, sir!" Harry said with a bit more enthusiasm than his previous assertions. "It's very nice."

"Then get in when you're ready," Severus said. Slowly, Harry stepped into the bath, and sat down. He gasped a bit as his hips touched the water.

"Is it still alright?" Severus asked. He had to confirm that the temperature was still acceptable for Harry. He had to make sure that Harry understood that baths were not a thing to be feared.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "It's just so...so...comfortable." Harry glanced up at Severus, almost seemingly worried that he would be denied it now that he admitted he sort of liked it. Severus knelt beside the tub.

"Here's a washcloth," Severus said. "I can wash you if you like, or you can do it yourself."

"I can do it, sir," Harry said quickly, almost panicky.

"Here you go," Severus said handing it to him. Harry turned the cloth over in his hands.

"After you get it wet and run it thoroughly over your skin, until your skin is pink, you can get out," Severus said. He knew Harry would not want to admit that he was positively clueless about how to take a proper bath, and so he contrived a way to tell him how without injuring what little pride Harry still had. And Harry was grateful for the subtle way Severus had told him. Harry suspected that Severus knew he didn't know what to do and had chosen a clever way of telling him. Much like the jacket.

Quickly, he put the cloth in the water, and began running it over his arms. It didn't take long and the water became dark with years of dirt being scrubbed off. After a few minutes, Severus judged that the water wouldn't take anymore dirt, and that Harry wasn't ready for a second bath yet.

"You're finished for now," Severus said. "You can get out, and put on your pajamas." Harry complied, and in a few minutes was dried and in his new pajamas.

.oO-Oo.

The bath had been heavenly. He felt so fresh...and clean! The dirt on his skin had come off in layers, and it felt so good to wash it off. And then he got into his new pajamas. Like the clothes Snape had shrunk for him, these fit him nicely. He felt secure in them. They wouldn't fall off, yet they didn't strangle him. They were soft and warm, very comfortable. He couldn't help rubbing his face against the fussy dark blue fabric which made the collar. He must have died at the Dursleys and gone to heaven. He knew that wasn't possible - there was no way he could ever get to heaven. But still, the thought was pleasant.

.oO-Oo.

"You like them?" Severus asked. Harry hadn't meant Severus to see that, but apparently he had. Severus was very much amused at the look on Harry's face as he ran the cloth over his cheek. At the same time, though, he had a pang of sorrow shoot through him. As much as he was glad that Harry was taking pleasure in such a simple thing, he was saddened at the same time. Running a fuzzy cloth over his cheek! It wasn't something to get excited about, but Harry was, because he had never had anything like it before.

"Yes, sir!" Harry replied. "Very much!"

"That's good," Severus said, and he smiled at Harry. "I'm glad you like them. And your glasses? You like them too?"

"Of course, sir! It's just - " Harry looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"It's just that even though you can't argue against what I showed you today, you're having a hard time believing it?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

"You were about to say something?" Severus said, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

"No, sir," Harry said. "I mean, yes, sir, but it wasn't important." He blushed.

"I like to hear things that aren't important, at least from you," Severus said. He had a feeling that whatever Harry had wanted to say, it actually was important. He hated being told unimportant things by his students, but Harry was more than a student. His students by and large had other people who would listen to their non-sense. Harry never had had anyone, and to top it all off, nothing that had come out of Harry's mouth had ever been unimportant. Wrong, perhaps, but not unimportant.

"I - It's nothing, sir," Harry said again, quieter, as he played with the hem of his shirt.

"But I would like to hear it, Harry," Severus insisted, with a piercing stare.

"It was just a question," Harry whispered, barely audible. "I'm sorry." He found something on the ground very interesting, because he hung his head and wouldn't look up at Severus.

"Harry," Severus said, kneeling beside him and pulling his chin up, "I approve of questions. You can ask anything you like. I promise. Nothing will happen to you when you ask a question. I take it you weren't allowed before?"

"No, sir," Harry whispered. "Except if it was about the chores or something I was told to do." Severus brought Harry into a hug, and let Harry's arm creep around his neck.

"So what was your question?" Severus asked again.

"How do you always know what I feel?" Harry asked.

"Even when you don't know how you feel?" Severus finished. It was an irony, that he was doing the very thing Harry was asking about as he was trying to answer.

"Exactly, sir," Harry confirmed, more confident now that Severus had not rebuffed his question. Severus broke the hug, and motioned Harry to follow him out of the bathroom.

"Because I have either felt in the past or feel now similar things," Severus said, his face slightly turned away from Harry as they went into the bedroom. "Or I can just guess how you're feeling. Remember, I understand." He looked deep into Harry's eyes, with a knowing look, and for once, Harry didn't burst into tears. He just smiled softly at Severus.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said.

"Alright, now, you need to go to bed, young man," Severus said. "I need to get some work done. I will be along eventually. Do you think you can handle being alone for a little while if you're sleeping?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, sitting on the edge of the bed, after Severus had turned down the covers.

"Now I want you to promise me something," Severus said, as Harry swung his legs into bed and Severus covered him. "If you have any problems - including nightmares, of any kind, about anything - I want you to come get me. I'll be down those stairs you've seen. You remember them?" Harry nodded. "I'll be down there. There's a door at the bottom, and if you have any problems - nightmares, or you're hungry or thirsty, or anything else, I don't care, - I want you to promise to come get me, alright?"

"Yes, sir, I promise," Harry said.

"Good," Severus said, tucking Harry in. "Good night."

"Good night, sir," Harry whispered back.

.oO-Oo.

Severus was in the potions lab trying to get through as many potions as he could for Poppy. He may have been running ahead of schedule before he went to check on Harry, but since then his life had been turned upside down, and he still needed to get those potions made. So, he'd be running a bit short of sleep for awhile. So what? The only thing that was bothering him about this was he knew it would only get worse. He would have to keep brewing new potions for Poppy every so often for her cabinet, and he would have to teach seven years of potions besides. Which was more work than just showing up to class. It was preparing the lessons, paying absolute attention in every class for the inevitable imbecile who was just trying to blow them all to eternity, and grading the essays after.

His job was very tiring. And then added to that were those infernal Order and Death Eater meetings. Thankfully the Death Eater meetings he was required to attend dropped off during the school year. He couldn't readily be expected to take off two days of work just because he'd been put under the Cruciatus. But sometimes they would hold the meetings on a Friday night when he had the weekend to recover. Still not pleasant.

And now there was Harry too. He wasn't sure how thin he could spread himself. Not even a potions master could add another hour to the day. He smirked as he thought of all the Pepper Up Potion he was going to have to make for himself to survive this school year.

At least he enjoyed making these potions. It was relaxing, and he had a bit of time to think by himself. Not that he didn't like spending time with Harry - well, he didn't like having to deal with all his fears and insecurities, but he was more than willing to - but none of this changed that he still liked to be alone as well. He was still a loner. Always was, and always would be. Lily, and now Lily's son, were the only ones who had broken through that shield. So had Lucius, to a degree, as well. An odd collection of friends, he mused.

He thought back to earlier that day. He had shown Harry his scars. Certainly he had shocked the poor child. Sometimes, though, he knew, shocking abused children was the only way to get through to them. At some level, now, he was thankful for the physical records of his past. They had served a purpose. Suddenly his life had not been wasted. He smiled a bit. Harry was bringing him peace. It was still going to be a long, hard road, both for him and for Harry, but he could see it lead to a better place.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Severus jumped slightly, pausing his potion. He went over to the door, and opened it, seeing Harry in quite a state. He was playing with his shirt hem avidly as he look up with large, scared eyes.

"Come in," Severus said, closing the door behind Harry. "What's the matter?"

"Nightmare," Harry muttered. "So I came. It wasn't a big deal though." Harry shrugged, and it looked like he wanted to leave before he made Severus angry. But Severus was not about to let Harry get away so easily. The nightmares Harry had were enough to scare a grown man, he knew, and he wasn't about to let Harry go through it alone. Not anymore.

"What was the nightmare?"

"Like last time," Harry said. "Only you were there, and you tried to stop Uncle Vernon."

"Oh," Severus said, reprimanding himself for his lack of eloquence. Well, how was he supposed to react to that! "And did anything happen after that?"

"No, I woke up," Harry said.

"I see," Severus said. "Do you want to stay down here with me?" So much for being alone. But, really, this was fine with him.

"Please, sir," Harry said.

"Alright," Severus said. "I'm going to take my wand and cast a spell which will turn that chair over there into a bed. It's something called transfiguration. That way you can sleep down here. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and he swallowed hard. Severus did as he said he would, careful to watch Harry's quickly paling face for any truly dangerous signs.

"Now, you can sleep down here. I'll bring you up with me when I'm finished. I want you to ask any questions you like," he said. Perhaps he could get Harry interested in magic by brewing in front of him.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Are you going to talk to someone about your nightmare this time?" Well, there was the first question. Admittedly, he had said Harry could ask anything, and Harry had taken him up on that apparently.

"I suppose you want me to?" Severus sighed.

"Well, sir, you've said it's supposed to help me, and you're worth everything I am," Harry observed.

"Alright, alright," Severus gave up. "I'll try to find myself my own psychotherapist if it makes you happy." Severus felt like huffing. There wasn't anyone on earth Severus would want to trust with that dream. Minerva had been fine to talk to about his father. She already knew about the situation. He didn't want anyone knowing what had happened to Harry in great detail, other than perhaps the Headmaster, if he could find something resembling a conscience in the man. Minerva would be horrified, and rightly so, at what Harry had been through, and wouldn't know how to handle it. There was a reason she wasn't a Slytherin. Who would he go to? Lucius was topping the list right now. He had been supportive of Harry, and maybe he would be the best one to help.

"What are you doing?" Harry then asked, apparently satisfied that the previous topic was closed.

"I'm brewing potions," he said. "Remember on the first night you were here, I told you I taught potions at this school? Well, I'm a potions master - that means I'm quite good at potions - and I make potions for the school infirmary. I'm making some ahead, so that Madame Pomfrey - the lady who came in after I came back from the Death Eater meeting - has them when students get hurt or sick."

"Oh," Harry said. "They smell funny."

"Yes, they do at that," Severus agreed, going back to his potion. "There's lots of strange things in them. And so they smell a bit different than you're used to probably."

"They smell like you," Harry commented.

"That's probably because I spend all day brewing them," Severus returned. Honestly, no one had every commented on what he smelled like before! Such a strange conversation to be having at eleven o'clock at night!

"Are they magic?"

"Sort of," Severus said. "The things that are put in them are magical. But I don't use spells to make them."

"It's like the fireplace?" Severus thought for a moment before he realized what Harry meant.

"That's called a floo," he said. "And yes, it's something like that. There's no spells. Just magic powder, or in this case, magic ingredients. Would you like to try making one sometime? I can show you tomorrow if you feel up to it." Harry didn't answer.

"Harry?" Severus said, turning, and he saw Harry's head resting on the pillow, his breathing even. Severus shook his head and began his brewing again.


	12. Diagon Alley

Severus woke with a start, and realized he was slumped over the table in his potions lab. He remembered having sat down for a much needed short break, and apparently he fell asleep. Harry was still asleep on the transfigured bed. It was morning, and Severus still felt exhausted. It was just a proof of how much energy his life was taking right now. Laying his head back down, he decided to sleep until Harry woke up.

In what seemed a few minutes, he heard a rustling of movement and woke up. It had been more like an hour, he realized, but Harry had woken and was slipping out of the bed.

"Good morning, Harry," Severus greeted him, his voice slightly slurred. "I apparently fell asleep down here."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Would you like some strawberries on your cereal this morning?" Honestly, Severus was getting to like the evil stuff. A person could only eat it so often before he got to like it or die.

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, smiling nervously.

.oO-Oo.

Harry couldn't believe his good fortune, as he sat down and began to eat his cereal with strawberries. Never before had anything gone this well for him. He hated to think of the day when his lucky streak ended. Everything ended. But he hoped it wouldn't end any time soon.

Snape's promised "thing" that would change his mind about keeping the glasses really had been a shocking revelation. Harry hadn't thought that a man as strong as Snape would ever have been beaten. He felt really bad for Snape. How long had Snape been living thinking he wasn't worth anything? Hadn't anyone ever stopped to tell him that he was?

What if Harry was wrong though? What if he was terribly, terribly wrong? Snape was intelligent. If Snape didn't think he himself was worth anything, and if Snape was right, then that meant that he, Harry, wasn't worth anything either. Suddenly it all made sense. His whole world started to crash around him. Snape must have seen his look of dismay.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Snape suddenly asked. "Come over here." Harry got up and walked over to Snape, who put him on his lap. "Will you tell me what's wrong now?" Harry just shook his head. He didn't trust his voice right now. So Snape pressed his head to his heart, knowing that the regular rhythm would calm him, as it did.

"There, there, shh," Snape said, as he rocked slightly. "Tell me what's wrong when you're ready."

"What if - " Harry began, and then he choked back a sob.

"What if what?" Severus prompted.

"What if you're right about youself, and it ends with neither of us being worth anything?" Hearing his own words, he couldn't hold back the tears and began to cry softly into Snape's clothes, again.

"Harry," Snape said. "Please keep in mind that I'm trying to change my view of myself. Additionally, you think I'm worth something don't you?"

"Yes," Harry said, still sniffing. "But you're smarter than I am. What if you're right?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say I'm smarter," Snape said. "But I see your point. If I'm so smart, though, then you're worth something. Because I do know that you are."

.oO-Oo.

Blast that boy's intelligence. It was a shame that Hogwarts had discontinued their debate program after he graduated. And it was a good thing they had had it then. It honed his reasoning skills, and that was just what he needed right now. To out-logic Harry. Thankfully, Harry accepted his last argument.

"Sorry," Harry said, slipping off his lap.

"Don't be," Severus said. "Harry," he said changing his tone with a new topic. "School is coming up quickly, and you need school supplies. I was thinking we could go get them today."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, sitting back down in his chair.

"Would you like to?"

"Yes, sir?" Harry said, and it truly did sound like a question.

"I need you to be honest with me, Harry," Severus said. "I don't ever want you to lie or twist the truth. Alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "It's just that you don't need to send me to school, sir." Severus snorted, and rolled his eyes.

"Of course I do," Severus said. "I teach here. What do you think I'd do with you? Besides, the decision isn't mine. It's the Headmaster's. He's decided you go here, and in this, I heartily agree with him."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, still wary.

"I suppose I should explain how the school is set up," Severus said. "Hogwarts is divided into four houses. Every year, at the beginning of the year, there is a ceremony where the new students will be sorted by the Sorting Hat. The Hat will announce the house you will be in for the rest of your schooling. In a month, you will have the hat set on your head and it announce which house you will get."

"Which house will I get?" Harry asked, almost excited. He seemed to like the idea of sorting.

"That is for the hat to decide," Severus said. "The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

"Slytherin," Harry said. "That sounds like a snake. I hate snakes!" Well, that wasn't going to help the situation any.

"And why is that?" Severus asked.

"Because there was on in the garden and it bit me," Harry explain. "I couldn't get it to let go, and I thought it might never let go."

"I see," Severus said. "Well, you're right, the house symbol is a snake. Gryffindor has a lion, Hufflepuff is a badger, and Ravenclaw is an eagle."

"Are you a Gryffindor?" Harry asked, with a large grin on his face. "You're strong and brave like a lion." Alright, Severus began to laugh. He tried to restrain it initially, and it came out as something of a snort, but he couldn't keep from laughing. The thought of being mistaken for a Gryffindor! If that wasn't the joke of the century! Minerva would be horrified. And if James Potter was looking down on them right now, Severus was sure he was either torn between horror or laughing as well. Well, James would probably lean towards to horror side, because Harry was sitting across from him - Snivellus.

Harry didn't understand why Snape thought the question was so funny, but he couldn't help giggling a bit as well. If Snape thought it was that funny, he must have said something, and the laughter was contagious. Severus noticed Harry's giggles and felt a warm sense of happiness he hadn't felt since before he and Lily had drifted apart.

"You're right, Harry, bravery is the quality that gets you sorted into Gryffindor," Severus said, after he had regained himself. "Courage and bravery belong to Gryffindor. Loyalty and friendship belong to Hufflepuff. Intelligence and wit belong to Ravenclaw. And cunning and ambition belong to Slytherin."

"Can you get all four houses?" Harry asked.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Because you're all four houses," Harry stated. "You're brave, loyal, intelligent, and cunning."

"Well, since you seem insistent on sorting me yourself," Severus said, still amused, "I'm a Slytherin. In fact, I'm the head of the Slytherin house."

"If you could guess, which house do you think I'll get?" Severus noticed that Harry was hesitant in this question.

"Hmm," he thought aloud. "Your parents were both Gryffindors. But that doesn't mean that you'll necessarily be a Gryffindor. Which house do you think you'll be?"

"I - I don't know," Harry said. "I hope I can get one." His voice had dropped to a whisper. Then suddenly his eyes widened in terror. "What if the Hat says I have to go back to the Dursleys and says I can't get a house? What if it says it can't sort me?"

"It won't say that, Harry," Severus assured. "I'm sure you're not the first student who has feared that."

"Did you?" he whispered, looking up at him through lowered eyelashes.

"Yes, exactly that. I was afraid that the Hat would send me back to my father. But instead it gave me Slytherin without so much as a second thought. Before the Hat could say anything to me, I started begging for any house that it wanted to give me. I told the hat that I didn't want to go back home. So the Hat said that I could calm down, and it announced Slytherin." Harry nodded.

"I suppose I should also tell you something else about the houses," Severus continued. "There are also certain faults that go along with the houses, and no matter which you get, I want you to watch out for these faults. Gryffindors are arrogant and can be bullies. Hufflepuffs wear their hearts on their sleeves, and are prone to having their feelings hurt. Ravenclaws tend to either lose themselves in their books or are overly proud of their academic success. And Slytherins seek power. I can't speak for other houses, but Slytherins have their reasons for acting the way they - we - do, which doesn't make it any the more acceptable, necessarily, but if you are a Slytherin, I want you be especially careful of that."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He couldn't see himself trying for power, but he would trust Snape on this.

"Additionally, Slytherin if often seen as a bad house," Severus continued. "And I am seen as a rather unpleasant person. It's probably because I am. Anyway, no matter which house you get, I would like it if you could remember that Slytherin is not an evil house, no matter what people may say about it. Also, Gryffindor and Slytherin have a special rivalry, shall we say. Should you get either of those, you will be involved in it. You'll learn more about it as you continue."

"Why are they rivals?" Harry asked.

"That's anyone's guess," Severus said. "Some people say it's because Slytherin is the evil house and Gryffindor is the good house."

"And what do you think?" Blast, that boy was perceptive.

"Because Slytherins and Gryffindors both envy each other for their qualities. We're more alike than we wish to admit, and we wouldn't want to let anyone know that we in fact envy the other. Both houses wear a mask over their own personalities. It's simply a different mask." Harry nodded. "Are you ready to get your things then?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

.oO-Oo.

They stepped out of a fireplace in Diagon Alley. Harry was dressed in some of his new clothes from the previous day, and Severus had changed into his wizarding robes again. He had a list of the things that Harry needed.

"Let's get your books first," Severus suggested. So they entered the appropriate store, and Severus began finding the titles that Harry would require. After laying out a stack of books, Harry compared it to the list.

"We're missing one book," Harry observed, slightly confused.

"Yes, because I'm going to give you my old potions book," Severus said. "I use the same books to teach that I learned from. My book will have lots of helpful notes for you. I didn't keep any of my other texts."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry gasped.

"Now let's get these and move on to the apothecary to get your potions ingredients."

After checking out, picking out all the necessary ingredients and materials for potions and the other classes too, like quills and parchment, Severus looked at the list of items.

"There are two things left," he observed. "Your wand and your animal."

"My...animal?" Harry asked.

"Yes. You can have an animal. It has to be a cat, a toad, or an owl. We should probably get your wand first though. That way we don't bring your pet into the other shop." The look on Harry's face was priceless. He hadn't been expecting to get an animal, that was sure. "Didn't you read the list?" Severus asked. "I showed it to you, and it says you may have an animal."

"I looked at it, sir," Harry said, gazing at the dirt road. Severus set the books down and crouched in front of Harry, catching his gaze. He was being an idiot again. A right up imbecile.

"Harry, I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't thinking. It's not your fault you can't read." Harry nodded at him and bit his lips as his eyes swam in tears. "Please don't cry," Severus said. He didn't want to have to deal with this in public. "It's not your fault, and I can fix it easily enough. I can teach you to read before the start of the school year. Is that alright with you?" Harry just continued to nod.

"Oh, come here," Severus sighed, making the decision to comfort him, even if it was in public. He'd kill anyone who dared comment later. Harry collapsed into his arms momentarily, sobbed for a couple minutes before collecting himself. Considering he didn't have any calming potion in his system, Severus realized that Harry was doing remarkably well.

"Good morning, Severus."

Severus jumped up, and whirled at the sound of the unexpected voice. He unconsciously had put himself between Harry and the perceived possible threat.

"Good morning, Lucius," Severus replied with a relieved sigh, as he brought Harry to his side. "Forgive my reaction." Lucius and Draco were apparently also out getting Draco's things for the upcoming school year as well.

"Of course," Lucius said, clearly amused.

"Not - one - word," Severus growled.

"I didn't say a thing," Lucius said, his smirk growing rapidly, with a ill-feigned innocence. "And this is young Harry?"

"Yes," Severus said. "Harry, this is a friend of mine. His name is Mr. Malfoy. And this here is his son, Draco. You and Draco will be in the same year in school."

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said very politely. "Hello, Draco."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry," Lucius continued, extending his hand. Harry took a step back, quickly, and Lucius noted that the step was closer to Severus.

"Shake Mr. Malfoy's hand," Severus whispered, but Lucius caught the words. Harry cautiously reached out and Lucius gave it one firm shake before releasing it. He really hadn't meant to startle Harry. Both Severus and Lucius noticed that Harry's gaze lingered on Draco.

"Hi," Draco finally said, also a bit nervous. Harry's nerves hadn't been lost on Draco, and Draco didn't know what to do. He raised his hand in a quick greeting. Severus also knew that as the son of a good Death Eater, Draco knew who Harry was. So he was likely very nervous at being in the presence of the child who brought down the Dark Lord. Severus could imagine that Draco was surprised by how unsure and nervous Harry was. After all, Harry Potter was a powerful wizard. What would have to be scared of? Draco was surprised to find a child where he had expected a monster.

"Hi," Harry returned, glancing at the ground.

"Got your wand yet?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry said. "You?"

"Me neither, no," Draco said. "You excited about school?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harry shrugged. "Are you getting an animal?"

"Of course!" Draco said, suddenly becoming animated. "I want to get a black cat. What do you want?"

"Oh," Harry said. It honestly hadn't occurred to him to think about that. "I don't know."

"What house do you think you'll get?"

"Um," Harry stalled. "I'm not sure about that either. I guess maybe Gryffindor?" He looked hopefully at Draco.

"Meh," Draco spat. "That's nothing to get excited about. I'm going to be Slytherin."

"Draco," Severus cut in. "Let the Hat decide where you'll be sorted." Severus had to admit, he was a little disappointed that Harry had suggested Gryffindor. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Yes, Uncle Severus," Draco said respectfully. Harry's eyes wandered to Severus for a moment, but then snapped back to Draco.

"I might get Slytherin," Harry said. "I don't know."

"Severus," Lucius said, "since apparently neither of them have their wands yet, shall we get them together?"

"I suppose," Severus said, still trying to assess Harry's reactions. They began to make their way to Ollivander's, and Severus could feel Harry's discomfort rolling off him. Every so often, Harry would glance up at him, and Severus could see the hidden question in his eyes. Harry wanted to be alone. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and lightly squeezed it, trying to reassure him. Severus knew Harry needed to get used to people. There would be plenty of them at the sorting feast.

Draco was chattering on about this and that, apparently trying to make up for Harry's lack of comment. Harry was listening politely, nodding, or agreeing when it seemed appropriate.

When they made to the wand shop, Ollivander came over.

"We would like to get wands," Lucius said.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," Draco said, offering his hand. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Ollivander replied, taking his hand. Harry looked up hesitantly at Severus. Severus nodded in approval.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," Harry said quietly, putting his hand out as well. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter!" Ollivander returned, grabbing his hand a bit too quickly, and Harry yelped quietly. "Such a pleasure to meet you! You have your father's hair and your mother's eyes!" Releasing his hand, Harry stepped back to Severus' side quickly. Severus put his hand on Harry's shoulder, drawing him close. Draco watched the whole scene with some interest.

In the beginning, Draco had felt a pang of jealousy when Ollivander got more excited over Harry than over him. But seeing Harry's reaction, he wasn't sure what to think. Harry was certainly different.

"Draco," Lucius said. "Go with Mr. Ollivander to get your wand."

"Yes, Dad," Draco said.

"Mr. Potter?" Ollivander said. "Would you like to come as well?"

"Come on, Harry," Draco said with a wave of his hand.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Severus whispered. Harry nodded though, and cautiously stepped over to Draco.

"Alright, let's try out some wands!" Ollivander said as he began pulling some boxes down from the walls.

.oO-Oo.

"Those Muggles really did their job thoroughly," Lucius commented quietly as soon as Draco and Harry were out of earshot. They each took seats next to each other.

"Yes, I know," Severus sighed, running his hand over his face. "Trust me, you don't even know the half of it."

"I'm sure I don't," Lucius agreed. "But you're a very capable man. You can sort it out."

"If anyone can," Severus snorted. "I need to talk to you more privately at some point." Lucius glanced at Severus and noticed he drummed his fingers on his crossed arms as he glared at the ceiling.

"What's happened?" Lucius said, not really trying to keep the smirk from his voice.

"Oh, just Harry," Severus huffed. "He's not letting me help him until I take my own advice."

"So you want to talk about something," Lucius concluded.

"No," Severus said. "He's making me talk about something, and there's a limited number of people I can talk to."

"You would do well to not sound like a whining child, Severus," Lucius admonished, still smirking at the situation.

"I'm not - " Severus began, and then sighed. "Yes, I suppose I am. Forgive me, Lucius. I haven't been myself lately."

"Severus, let me tell you a few things," Lucius began. "As a father, children will change you. Molly Weasley will tell you the same thing. Children change you. And Harry is no exception. In fact, I would assess that the two of you have worked great changes on each other already, even though this is the first time I've ever seen Harry. You'll never be the same man you were before Harry."

"Yes, he's come a long ways, believe it or not."

"Oh, I do. I can only imagine the wreck the poor boy was when you found him."

"Trust me, you don't want to," Severus drawled.

"You'll be a good influence on each other," Lucius predicted. "It seems you already have been."

"Could you please have a talk with Draco about Harry?" Severus suddenly asked. "I would like Draco and Harry to be friends, but I can't have Draco insensitive to Harry. That would do more damage than good. One thing that may be significant for you is that Harry was punished very severely for any showing of accidental magic. Draco would not understand such a thing without an explanation. Harry's reactions around magic are still based on his past experience. Another is that Harry had a lot of physical scars from the abuse, and he's self-conscious about them. If Draco doesn't make any comment on his choice of clothes in light of the weather, that would be greatly appreciated. I hope you understand?"

"I can try my best," Lucius agreed. "I don't know the full extent of his abuse, but I can make some generalizations from what you said earlier and what I see now. Draco will be much more at ease next time, I assure you. Although, he will get Slytherin."

"I understand that," Severus said. "I have no doubt he will get Slytherin. Harry doesn't understand the history of the houses. In fact, I just explained about them this morning. He knows his parents were from Gryffindor. I've already addressed the good house/bad house conflict and the rivalry. I think Harry may have simply been trying to play it safe with picking the good house. I trust you noticed how fast he agreed to Slytherin once Draco made his position clear?"

"Of course, Severus," Lucius said. "I'm not a Slytherin for nothing. Do you know what house he really wants?"

"No," Severus admitted. "I told him to not worry about it. The Hat would decide for him. He had enough to deal with besides house sorting. He will be accepted no matter house he is in." Of course, Lucius understand the unspoken implication in Severus' words. Harry would be accepted as a Death Eater no matter what house he was from.

"Is he nervous like you were?" Lucius asked. Severus and Lucius had met early on, and until Lily got Gryffindor, they had been set up for their own Golden Trio. Severus had asked Lucius about the possibilities of not getting any house, and no matter how much Lucius had tried to tell him that it wasn't possible, Severus hadn't really believed it.

"Yes," Severus said slightly sadly. "And I doubt he'll really believe the answer I gave him - the answer you gave me - until the Hat actually sorts him."

"You hope he gets Slytherin, don't you?"

"Of course," Severus said. "It will be much easier all the way around if he does. But I refuse to influence him in any way. His sorting his between him and the Hat."

"What house do you see him in?"

"Every one," Severus said, looking at Lucius for the first time in the whole conversation. "He's as cunning as a Slytherin, smart as a Ravenclaw, loyal as a Hufflepuff, and as brave as a Gryffindor. Much the same as he diagnosed me. Do you realize he mistook me for a Gryffindor?" Lucius laughed a bit.

"Do explain these assessments you've made," Lucius encouraged.

"He uses my own words against me," Severus said.

"Slytherin."

"He remembers everything I tell him."

"Ravenclaw."

"He cares very deeply."

"Hufflepuff."

"And he was willing to go back to his abuse to protect me from any difficulties I might encounter."

"Totally Gryffindor," Lucius said, rolling his eyes. "Do you think we should see how the boys are fairing?"

"Yes," Severus agreed. Together they found Ollivander still giving Draco different wands. He was trying each out, and Ollivander kept tweaking the wands. Finally, a few minutes after the two men began to watch, Draco got his wand. 10 inches, Hawthorn wood and with a unicorn hair core.

"A very good wand," Lucius said in approval as Draco showed it to him.

"Now, Mr. Potter, your wand," Ollivander said. "Try this one." Lucius and Draco watched with interest as Harry hesitantly reached out and took the wand. He looked at Severus with a scared expression.

"Just shake the wand a bit," Severus murmured, with an encouraging nod of his head. Harry nodded back and shook his wand. A light shot from it, like he had seen come out of Draco's, but it still startled him. Jumping back a bit, Ollivander clicked his tongue.

"Not right," he said, handing Harry a different wand. After several attempts, Ollivander got a wand from the back. "Let's try this one," he said, handing the wand to Harry. With the same shake, Harry's light was satisfactory.

"Curious, very curious," Ollivander said.

"What is?" Severus asked.

"The wand," Ollivander said. "11 inches long, made of holly and had a phoenix feather core. It is the original's brother feather." Lucius and Severus exchanged glances. The significance of the description was not lost on either of them, as Ollivander knew it wouldn't.

"Is it - " Harry began, looking at Severus. "Is it a good wand?"

"Yes, the very best," Severus said with a soft smile. They paid for their wands, and then the four of them proceeded to pick out their animals. Of course, Draco already had thought long and hard about his animal. As he had stated, he wanted a black cat.

"I suppose this is where our paths part for the time being," Severus said with a polite incline of his head. "Harry and I will be looking over all the animals. Good-bye, Lucius."

"Good-bye, Severus," Lucius said. "Feel free to floo over any time you like."

"Bye, Uncle Severus," Draco said. Once again, Harry shot Severus a confused glanced. "Bye, Harry, see you at the sorting feast!"

"Bye, Draco," Harry said shyly.

"Now, let's find you a pet," Severus said, steering Harry towards the toads first. Harry looked over all them, but none seemed to take his interest.

"Before you make a decision," Severus continued, "I want you to look at the cats and owls first." So they proceeded to look at the cats. Lucius and Draco had already left.

"Should I get a cat like Draco?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Only if you want to," Severus said. "It won't be bad if you don't. Let's look at the owls before you settle on a cat, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and they walked over to the owls. Harry's eyes immediately fell on a beautiful snowy owl. He gasped a bit when he saw the bird.

"Do you like her?" Severus asked, bringing her down to Harry.

"Yes," Harry breathed, as he reached out and stroked her feathers.

"Then she's yours," Severus said. This was definitely the animal for Harry. He hadn't reacted like this to any other animal, and the owl was seemingly taken by Harry as well.

"Really?" Harry gasped.

"Yes," Severus said, smiling slightly at Harry. "What would you like to call her?"

"I - I don't know a lot of names," Harry admitted.

"How about Hedwig?" Severus suggested.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Well," Severus said, suddenly hesitant. He didn't really want to explain why he had chosen that name. "She's the patroness of orphans," he finally said, hoping Harry wouldn't be too upset. "It seemed a fitting name. She'll look out for you." Severus wasn't sure if he meant the patroness or the owl.

"But you're looking out for me, aren't you?" Harry asked quietly, still running his fingers over the owl's feathers.

"Of course," Severus said. "But no such thing as too much help, is there?" Harry smiled a bit.

"Can we get Hedwig then?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, my little primate," Severus said, bringing Harry into a quick hug. No one was in the store to see anyway.

.oO-Oo.

"Well, let's put these things away, shall we?" Snape said, taking the supplies and putting them in a spare trunk once they had stepped back through the fireplace. "This will be your trunk. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, holding Hedwig's cage close to himself. He loved the bird, and he never wanted to be parted from her. He hoped, oh he really hoped, that Hedwig would not meet the same fate his mouse had. He didn't think she would, because he thought Snape would help see to her food. But he was ready to give her his food too if he needed.

"You can open Hedwig's cage, if you like," Snape said. "I know the shop, and she'll already be trained not to mess the house. She can fly around." Quickly, Harry set the cage on the floor and knelt down to open the door. Hedwig hopped out of the golden doorway onto Harry's arm and then climbed up to his shoulder.

"What does she eat?" Harry asked.

"She'll go hunting," Snape said. "Just let her out at night, and she'll come back in the morning."

"Alright," Harry agreed. He wasn't stupid. He knew that meant that Hedwig would be eating mice. It caused him to grimace a bit, that his bird would be eating mice, but he didn't mind it that much.

Hedwig was so beautiful! He brushed his cheek against her soft feathers and she playfully nipped at his nose. Then his face darkened a bit as he thought over his outing.

"There's something on your mind, isn't there?" Snape asked. "Please, ask me about whatever it is."

"Why did Draco call you...call you..."

"Ah," Snape said. "Why did he call me uncle? Let me assure you Harry, I - do - not - hurt - Draco. Ever. I have never hurt Draco, and I never will hurt him. I am his godfather. That means I help look after him a bit. I'm sorry if the term makes you uncomfortable. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"He won't be calling me that very much at school anyway," Snape said. "He'll call me Professor like everyone else unless we're alone." Harry nodded. "Now, I think we should have lunch. After that, how would you feel about having our first reading lesson?"

"Yes, sir, I would like that very much," Harry replied, letting his fingers wander through Hedwig's feathers. Snape was going to teach him to read. He'd always wanted to know how. And now he was going to learn. He smiled to himself.

.oO-Oo.

Hedwig hadn't budged from her perch on Harry's shoulder all through lunch, the reading lesson, or supper and Severus wasn't about to complain about it. He was very glad that Harry had found an animal for himself. He had been nervous that Harry wouldn't want a pet after his mouse, or even if he did, he would be too scared. Having gone through the toads and the cats, he was almost certain that would be the case. But having seen his look when he saw Hedwig, that had decided it. If Severus hadn't already believed in love at first sight, he would have been an instant convert.

Harry had managed a little supper that night, and after that, Severus suggested another bath. This time, there wasn't nearly as much resistance to the concept.

"Hedwig will have to come off your shoulder," Severus finally said, almost smirking.

"I know," Harry said. "But she can come to the bathroom?"

"Of course," Severus said. He certainly wasn't going to separate Harry from his bird any time soon. If Hedwig was amiable, she could stand watch over the bed when she wasn't hunting. He had a window in his rooms which was something of a portkey but not quite to the outside. If Hedwig flew into the window, she would come out on the outside of the castle and then flying into that window on the way back, she would re-enter his rooms. The window was special and Hedwig would have no trouble finding it on the way back.

.oO-Oo.

After the bath, Harry pulled on his pajamas, and let Hedwig take her perch on his shoulder again.

"Harry," Severus said, "I'll be going back down to my lab tonight. Would you like to come with me and fall asleep down there? Hopefully tonight I'll actually bring you back up before morning."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "It smells nice down there." Severus reached out and messed up Harry's wet hair a bit, smiling.

"Come along," he said, leading Harry down the stairs.


	13. The Sorting Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full credit to J.K. Rowling for the Sorting Hat's song.

It was over breakfast the next morning when Severus and Harry had The Talk. Not that Talk, but Harry began asking questions. Questions that Severus knew he had to answer, but didn't want to.

"Are you my godfather?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm not," Severus answered.

"But you look after me," Harry said. "And you said a godfather helps look after someone."

"Right," Severus agreed, "but a godparent is chosen by the parents of the child. Mr. Malfoy asked me when Draco was born if I would be his godfather, and I agreed."

"Then..." Harry hesitated. "I don't have a godfather?" He almost looked like he was going to cry. Severus knew Harry just wanted someone to love him for what he was. He wanted to be normal above all else. And that was something he never would have.

"Yes, you have a godfather," Severus said, guardedly. "But he's in prison for a terrible crime. His name is Sirius Black." Harry nodded.

"So it's like a don't have one."

"Yes, and no," Severus said. Oh, boy, now he was getting more complicated than ever! "Harry, I don't quite know how to explain this to you. But you need to understand." He set his silverware down, to focus on what he was going to say. Harry did likewise. "You deserve the truth, and I'll give it to you. Do you remember me telling you about the Dark Lord killing your parents?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Well, you see," Severus said, clearly stalling for time. "There were two people who betrayed them."

"Who were they?" Harry asked, not seeing how this connected to anything.

"There was a man who told the Dark Lord something - a prophecy - about a little boy who would defeat him. The man didn't really believe that the Dark Lord would take it seriously. But he did. And the Dark Lord began hunting for this little boy - who turned out to be you. So you and your parents had gone into hiding, and there was only one person - the secret keeper - who could tell the Dark Lord where they were.

"The secret keeper was your godfather, Sirius Black, who is now in prison for betraying your parents, among other things. The other man - the one who delivered the prophecy - is myself." Severus almost hung his head in shame. He hadn't wanted to tell Harry that, but he also knew that if Harry found out later, from anyone else, the situation would not be helped. Harry just looked at him silently, and Severus felt panic rising in him.

He didn't know how he could react if this child rejected him! As well he should. He just couldn't let that happen. He had to try to make Harry see.

"I'm very, truly, and deeply sorry for what I did that night," Severus said, setting his elbows on the table and running his hands over his face. "I loved your mother very much, and I would have done anything to save her. I begged for her life, but it didn't work. I hope you can forgive me. I understand if you don't." Severus looked at Harry anxiously, and for once, it was Severus who felt scared. He just couldn't face the rejection. "I've been working for years to try to undo the damage I caused. But I don't think I'll ever make it. Lily will never come back."

"That was my mother's name? Lily?" Harry whispered. Severus nodded. He didn't trust his voice to respond. How had this child become so important to him in such a short time? Well, it had to be Lily working her magic over him even in death. Either that, or more likely, Harry's desperate cry for love was so loud it could even reach his deaf ears. Severus covered his face with his hands, refusing to look at Harry. He couldn't watch Harry's decision.

Then he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He looked to his right, and Harry was standing next to him, hesitantly reaching out. He looked rather nervous, but otherwise perfectly normal.

"Please don't cry," Harry whispered. "You didn't mean it."

"I know I didn't," Severus said, scooping Harry up into his lap, relief washing over him as he realized he hadn't lost him forever. "But I need to make it up somehow. Black was a friend of your father's. I almost ended up your godfather. If your mother had had her way, I would have been.

"Now, when I child's parents die, custody of the child goes to the godparent," Severus explained. "But due to unique circumstances, since your godfather was put into prison, he could not have custody of you. So, what the Ministry of Magic and Headmaster Dumbledore decided was that you would live with your relatives, and they would have custody of you for all intents and purposes just like any other case of custody. But Dumbledore retained your magical custody. Which is why he can decide that you attend Hogwarts."

"So he's like my magical godfather?" Harry asked brightly. Ah! If only he didn't have to warn the child about Dumbledore every so lightly. He couldn't be too obvious about it or the meddling old fool would see what he said in Harry's mind.

"Perhaps you could say that," Severus said.

"Then why did he let me stay at the Dursleys?" Harry asked, now not so happy at the thought of Dumbledore. Severus bit the inside of his cheek lightly.

"That's what I would like to know, Harry," Severus said. "I had thought you were being cared for, and that was why I hadn't shown up before. Another professor, shall we say, encouraged me to check on you."

"Why hasn't he come to visit me, if he's like my godfather?"

"Because I told him not to," Severus said. "I didn't want him startling you, or causing you any problems. He can be a little eccentric sometimes."

"Eccentric?"

"Slightly crazy," Severus smirked.

"Does he care about me?" Harry whispered. This was the question that Harry had been leading up to the whole time, and Severus knew it.

"I honestly don't know, Harry," Severus murmured back. "I honestly don't know."

.oO-Oo.

Later in the day, Severus brought Harry down to his lab, where he began brewing a simple potion.

"Harry, come stand up on a chair, and watch," he said. Harry obliged, and leaned over the cauldron. "Would you like to stir?" he asked. The potion didn't need any particular times or styles of stirring and it would be safe enough for Harry to do.

Hesitantly, Harry accepted the wooden spoon handle and began to stir, under Severus' careful watch.

"Do you like it?" Severus asked after a few minutes.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, very definite in his tone.

"Would you like to continue to help me in the future? I have to finish a number of potions before the start of the school year."

"Please, sir!" Harry said, and smiled.

And so Harry began to help with Severus' potions, stirring and chopping. Harry, of course, was a natural at stirring and chopping, since he had cooked for years at the Dursleys. But here, Harry didn't mind using his skills. He wasn't being forced to, and he did something he actually enjoyed. He and Severus were quiet when they were in his lab, but it still felt good to be in Severus' presence.

.oO-Oo.

Finally, the day came when Severus couldn't escape it any more. Harry was going to make him talk to Lucius about his dreams. And Severus would go through hell and back for Harry. In some ways, he was doing that.

"Harry," Severus said, "I'll be going to Mr. Malfoy's for a bit. I told you I would discuss that dream with someone, and I will. Just to show you how much you mean to me, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Harry had been as determined to demonstrate to Severus what he was worth as Severus had been to demonstrate Harry's. Severus ruffled Harry's mop of hair and stepped through the fireplace. Of course, he had arranged his meeting with Lucius prior, so he was expected.

"Severus!" Lucius greeted him. "You wanted to discuss something. Or, rather, according to you in Diagon Alley, Harry wanted you to discuss something."

"Yes, as always, right to the point," Severus said, take a seat in Lucius' living room. "Harry was witness to a nightmare I had." Lucius smirked slightly. "Don't you even dare make a comment!" Severus raged. "I'm not here for my own sanity! It's for Harry!"

"Of course, of course," Lucius agreed. "Do continue. Undoubtedly, you've told Harry to talk about the nightmares he has, and so he told you to talk about yours. You can't reveal them to him, so to follow through you go to someone else." Severus huffed and glared at Lucius.

"Yes, yes," he said. "Anyway, it was just a nightmare where Harry was being abused and I couldn't help him, that's all. Nothing more. So, now, Lucius, since I've told you, I believe that concludes my obligation to Harry, and I need to get back to prepare for school."

"Not so fast," Lucius said. "You realize this means that you are deeply attached to Harry? And that you fear you'll be inadequate to protect him." Severus sighed.

"If you say so," he huffed.

"Why do you think you might not be able to protect him?"

"Because of Dumbledore," Severus admitted after a few moments. "He still thinks Harry should go back to the Dursleys at the end of the school year, and I don't have any say about it. My only leverage is being his spy. But I'm sure he'll find a way to manipulate that into nothing. He could easily discharge me from my position at the school, which would mean I would be useless to the Dark Lord as a spy. With no means of an income, I would be even less able to care for Harry under any circumstances. For awhile, it would be fine because of savings. But money runs out. Why am I telling you this? Don't get the idea that I'll just tell you anything!"

"You have your secrets, and I have mine," Lucius said, pouring Severus a drink. He proceeded to pour one for himself. "I can arrange that you receive custody of Harry, if you so desire. I can at least try if nothing else."

"That would be wonderful," Severus agreed. "I can't let Harry go back there at the end of the school year. I just can't."

"I will have to be subtle, of course," Lucius said, "but by the end of the school year, hopefully something will be arranged. Perhaps that will make you sleep better."

"Perhaps," Severus agreed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, my friend," Lucius said.

"Have you spoken to Draco yet about Harry?"

"Yes, I have," Lucius replied. "He took it very well. There were obviously a lot of foreign concepts to him. I know you don't approve of all my means of discipline, and that is your perogative, but I have never been cruel to Draco. He will be very respectful and cooperative with Harry. At some level, Draco actually likes him."

"Harry needs some friends, even if he won't know what to do with them. Draco knows to take the initiative and not be offended if Harry is shy?"

"Of course," Lucius nodded. "I have gone over many possible reactions, and Draco will overlook them all. He can be subtle if he wants to be. If you should have any other troubles with that old fool of a Headmaster, let me know."

"I will, and thank you for speaking to Draco."

"It is not a problem."

.oO-Oo.

Harry's reading and other remedial classes came along surprisingly well. Severus found it a joy to teach Harry, since he actually wanted to learn. The biggest difficulty was that Harry wanted to learn how to read too badly. Very often, Severus had to remind Harry that affection and food did not hang in the balance. Although he controlled his reactions, Harry still didn't believe that. He was still convinced that if he didn't complete his goals perfectly, there would be hell to pay after. Severus just hoped and prayed that gradually Harry would relax and trust him completely. He didn't know what else to do. Perhaps there was nothing else he could do.

.oO-Oo.

And so the day of the Sorting Feast came. Harry was clearly being eaten away by apprehension. He was pacing, or simply sitting on the edge of a chair, but he wasn't interacting with Severus, and he wasn't eating much either. His eating habits had improved greatly over the past month, and he had put on some weight. He was still too thin, and ate too little, but there was definite progress.

"Harry, you need to eat your lunch!" Severus demanded. "I know you're nervous about the sorting. You will be fine. You will get a house, I promise. And whatever house you get, it will be a good one."

"But what if I don't?" Harry whispered, still just gazing at his food.

"That can't happen," Severus replied. "But, let's just suppose it does. When it doesn't, I would simply have to speak to the Headmaster about burning the Hat. And then you'd get a house. I promise you will get a house. Now, don't worry, and eat your food."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and began picking at his chicken.

.oO-Oo.

Hours later, Snape brought Harry to the doors in front of the Great Hall. Harry was dressed in his wizarding robes, and played with his hands nervously under the long sleeves. Harry was glad that they had long sleeves, because then it would be easier to hide all his scars. He knew that anyone but Snape who saw his scars would reject him immediately.

"Just wait here until the other first years come, and then you can all go in together," Snape instructed. "Professor McGonnagall will show you what to do. Draco will be there, and you can stay with him."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, still looking terrified.

"I will be sitting up at the head table, with the rest of the staff. I will be there, watching, don't worry."

"Yes, sir," Harry said again, but the thought of Snape watching, while comforting a little bit, also scared him. What if he did something wrong and humiliated Snape in front of everyone?

"You'll do fine," Snape whispered in his ear, as he quickly hugged Harry. Then Snape was gone, and Harry stood alone in the vestibule. Thankfully, though, or perhaps not, in a couple minutes there were shouts and people coming up the stairs. Harry pressed himself against the wall, and then saw the other first years coming up the stairs. He slipped into the crowd without being noticed. He searched the crowd for Draco and quickly found him by his distinctive hair.

There were just so many people! It was suffocating. Everyone was close to him, and that didn't make him feel comfortable at all. With the exception of Snape, whenever he was close to anyone, it always resulted in something bad for him. He would never have a chance with all these people if they decided to move against him.

"Hi," Harry said, very quietly as he stood beside Draco.

"Hi, Harry," Draco said, breaking into a smile. "Nice to see you again. Did you have a nice month?"

"Yes," Harry said. "And you?"

"Yep. Didn't do a whole lot. Just stuff, you know."

"Yeah, I did stuff too."

"Anything exciting?"

"Well, I - " and then Harry stopped himself. He didn't want to admit he couldn't read before that month. He still wasn't very good at it, he knew, but at least he could get by now. "No, not really. Made some potions."

"Hey, that's really cool," Draco said. "My dad wouldn't let me make any potions ahead." Draco huffed a bit. "Said they were too dangerous if I didn't know what I was doing."

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonnagal announced, and the two fell silent. Harry looked mortified, but Draco just raised an eyebrow. "You will stop the chatter this instant. Now, you can all get in there for the sorting!"

Harry looked like he was about to cry. Draco really felt sorry for him. He didn't know what to do though.

"Don't worry, it's fine," he whispered discretely. "Nothing's going to happen to us." Harry nodded, and looked a little better, but not much. The nerves from the upcoming sorting were just too much for him. They all sat down, and on a table in the front of the room, an old torn hat sat as the center of attention. It began to sing a song.

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Then Professor McGonnagall went over to the hat and began to call names. One by one, children got up and went over, having the hat set on their heads.

"Granger, Hermione!"

A girl with frizzy hair went up, very confidently, with her chin in the air. She sat down, and McGonnagall put the hat on her head.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat called. Granger looked smugly at a a boy with red hair, and went to the Ravenclaw table.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

"Hufflepuff!" Well, this Longbottom boy looked a bit disappointed.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

"Be good while I'm gone," Draco whispered, smiling at Harry, and squeezing his hand.

"Good luck," Harry whispered back.

"Slytherin!" the hat said, hardly sitting on his head a moment. Draco looked at Harry, nodded encouragingly, and went to the Slytherin table. Time seemed to slow down for Harry. It was awful because it just dragged out the whole ceremony.

"Potter, Harry!" finally called him out of his reverie. He rose slowly, and came up to the chair. Glancing up at Snape, Snape gave him the smallest of nods. He sat down, and McGonnagall put the hat on him, ignoring the involuntary flinch.

"Please give me a house, any house," Harry began pleading mentally the moment the hat was on his head.

"Hmm, Harry Potter," the hat replied. "I've waited 10 long years to sort you. And you're willing to take any house?"

"Yes, please just give me a house."

"You're rather brave, certainly self-sacrificing, and you care very deeply. You're brilliant, and you're also willing to use that for your own ends. Hmm, problems, problems."

"Does...does this mean I don't get a house?"

"No, no, no, my dear boy, you'll get a house. Don't worry yourself. How about Gryffindor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, but you seem disappointed in that. Why is that?"

"But I'm not, Mr. Hat!"

"Yes, you are. I can read your thoughts plainly enough. Even if I do already know the answer, what house would you like?"

"Um...Slytherin please? But I'll take anything!"

"Slytherin!" the hat called, and Harry slipped off the chair with a sigh of relief. He had gotten a house! And he had gotten the one he wanted too. It was Draco's house and it was Snape's house. He would make both of them proud. Walking over to the Slytherin table, Draco made room for him and motioned him to sit down. Harry did so, giving Draco a smile, which Draco returned.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

"He's a sure bet for Gryffindor," Draco whispered. "His whole family is Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor!" the hat called.

"See?" Draco whispered again.

Then the Headmaster got up and gave a speech. Something about not going into the forest, and a few other things, but Harry was too excited about getting a house to pay much attention, even though he tried. He really did try.

"Let the feast begin!" Dumbeldore finally ended, and food appeared on the table. Harry blinked at it for a few moments, as Draco reached for the mashed potatoes.

"Here, Harry," Draco said. "Take some." Nodding mutely, Harry did as Draco instructed, and before he knew it, Draco had filled Harry's plate. Then Harry began to eat, even if his stomach still had butterflies. He risked another glance at Snape, who was talking to a man in a turban. Apparently Snape was annoyed, or at least he looked annoyed. Harry hoped it wasn't at him. Suddenly, he wondered if he shouldn't have tried for Snape's house. Maybe that was something he didn't want to share.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked, in between bites of corn.

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly.

"Yeah, right," Draco scoffed. "Fine, don't tell me, but don't tell me nothing's wrong. I'm not stupid."

"Sorry," Harry whispered, now afraid that he had offended his only friend.

"What for? Don't be. It's fine. Don't forget to eat!" Draco smiled. But Harry couldn't bring himself to eat more than a few mouthfuls. All these people! He was terrified. Relieved that he got a house, and that Draco still talked to him, but terrified of everyone else. He was shaking slightly as he thought about whether Snape was angry with him or not. His breathing increased, and he started wringing his hands in his lap.

"You're not okay," Draco whispered, looking concerned.

"I'm fine," Harry contracted, panicky. Draco looked up at Snape, who was now looking their way, and Snape nodded to him. Getting up from the table, he came over to where Harry sat. Snape put a hand on each of the boy's shoulders, and Harry flinched. He hadn't flinched under Snape's touch in a long time, but now he was terrified of what the man would do.

"What's the matter?" he asked quietly. Draco just looked at Harry, whose panic had risen through the roof.

"Harry," Snape tried again, "what's the matter?" He put both hands on Harry's shoulders and turned him to face him. Harry shook his head, and Snape sighed.

"Alright, I'll take you with me to my rooms, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"I would like it," a voice began from behind Snape, "if you could bring him to my office."

"And why would I do that, Headmaster?" Snape replied without turning to face him.

"Because I've requested it, and I do have the power to fire you." Snape made a face, but Harry knew it was directed at the Headmaster.

"I demand to be there," Snape compromised.

"Alright, let's all go then," Dumbledore said.

.oO-Oo.

Severus stalled for a moment to get Harry alone outside Dumbledore's office.

"I'll be with you, Harry," he said. "But try not to look him in the eyes. Even if he tells you to, try not to. It's very important." He hoped Harry would remember because just telling him this would arouse Dumbledore's suspicions, and it was bad enough having half of the Death Eater community rejecting him. Then they went into the office, where Dumbledore was already sitting.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, sir," Harry responded, playing with his robes, careful, Severus noticed, to look at the floor.

"How do you like being a Slytherin?" Harry looked up at Severus, and he looked terrified.

"Fine, sir," Harry said, returning his gaze to the floor.

"I would have supposed you would be in Gryffindor, since that was where your parents came from. You'll have to be brave so that you can deal with Voldemort again some day." Harry glanced up at the name when he saw Severus wince. "Why did the Hat sort you into Slytherin?"

"I object, Headmaster!" Severus shouted, making Harry jump. "What is said between the Hat and the child is confidential. Harry does not have to answer that."

"Of course not," Dumbledore quickly agreed. "But if you would like to tell me, Harry, I would be interested in hearing it."

"You don't have to tell him," Severus mumbled. Harry shook his head, and his breaths began coming raggedly. "If you don't mind, Headmaster, I believe Mr. Potter is finished here." Severus put his hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him to the door.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Dumbledore said.

"Yes, good evening, Headmaster," Snape sneered back.

.oO-Oo.

When they exited Dumbledore's office, Severus turned to Harry. He was fairly shaking, barely holding back a flood of tears as he met Severus' gaze.

"Whatever is the matter?" Severus asked.

"I'm sorry!" Harry suddenly burst out.

"For what?" Severus was simply confused about what Harry thought he had done now.

"For getting Slytherin!" Harry began to cry into his hands, not seeking any comfort, Severus noticed. "I didn't mean to annoy you."

"But you didn't annoy me," Severus countered, taking a knee in front of Harry, since no one was there to see. "Why did you think I would be annoyed with you getting Slytherin? I'm very proud of you."

"Because you looked upset when you were talking to the man with the funny hat," Harry sobbed. "It was right after I got sorted. I thought you might not want to share your house."

"Harry, come here," Severus said, pulling Harry into an embrace.

"The Headmaster didn't seem happy either," Harry mumbled into Severus' robes.

"No, he probably wasn't," Severus agreed. "I think he was convinced you would be a Gryffindor and he was slightly disappointed." Well, very disappointed. Now he, Severus, would have a measure of authority over Harry by being his head of house. "But don't let that bother you. You're in a good house, and I will be able to help you more when you're in my house."

"Would my parents be disappointed?" he whispered.

"No," Severus said confidently, even if he thought James might have been. For the moment, James would get the benefit of the doubt. "They would be very, very proud of their only child. We're going back to my rooms." After releasing Harry, they began to walk through the castle until they got to their destination.

"Here, you've had a long day," Severus said, encouraging Harry up on their now regularly shared bed. "Take your shoes off, and get ready for bed."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, hastening to do as instructed.

"A few things I need to go over with you, Harry," Severus said, leaning against the wall as he watched Harry closely. "I watched you during the sorting, and I got the distinct impression you were uncomfortable with the crowd. I suppose that's to be expected. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered as he blushed. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." Blast, it looked like the boy was going to cry again. "I tried to be comfortable, but I've just never been around that many people. Not when they're all looking at me."

"I understand, Harry," Severus said, nodding, "but you were still very uncomfortable. In addition to your reading skills not being quite up to standard, and now being your head of house besides, I'm going to keep you from your regular classes until you're more prepared to take them on. This will include dealing with people, reading, and becoming more comfortable around magic. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, his voice and face both blank.

"Harry, you do realize that you've made remarkable progress," Severus said. "Nothing about this has anything to do with something you failed to do. You're brilliant. It's just that no one can learn to read well enough for secondary school in a month. In less than a month, even. Do you understand me? You're not to blame for this!" Severus' voice became stern at the end.

"Yes, sir!" Harry agreed, slightly rattled at Severus' tone.

"I'm more to blame than you are," Severus said. "Don't carry around guilt that isn't yours."

"Maybe..." Harry hesitated, and then swallowed nervously.

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe you could take your own advice," Harry whispered, sucked in his breath, and braced himself for the blow he knew was going to come. "Sir." Severus paused as he considered what Harry had said.

"Under normal circumstances, I would not stand to be spoken to like that, as apparently you suspect," he said evenly, "but I do see your point. Don't mistake my failure here as being permission for you to do the same thing. I will not have you thinking that you aren't as good as the others because you're scared of crowds and can't read as well as you would otherwise. You're just as good, just as smart, and stronger than any other student out there." Harry nodded at him. So Severus continued. "I will still have to teach though, which will mean that you will be alone here for awhile each weekday. Of course Nitty will be here to look after you. If you ever have any problems, though, she can come get me from my classes."

"Yes, sir."

"You and Draco seem to be getting along?" Severus asked after a momentary pause.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, grinning shyly.

"Do you like him?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Will you please say something more than 'Yes, sir,'?" Severus sighed. "I won't bite you, you know."

"Well, Draco said that he could make any potions during the summer because his father wouldn't let him do something like that alone," Harry volunteered.

"Mr. Malfoy is a smart man," Severus said. "The only reason I let you do it is because I was standing right there."

"The Sorting Hat knew of me," Harry whispered. "It said it had been waiting 10 years to sort me."

"Yes, I can imagine," Severus said.

"It wanted to put me in Gryffindor," Harry continued. "It said I could have any of the houses. But it suggested Gryffindor."

"How did you get Slytherin then?" Severus asked. "You don't have to answer unless you want to," he continued hastily. "It isn't my place to ask what happens between any student and the Hat. Forgive me."

"It said that I was disappointed with Gryffindor, and wanted me to tell it what house I wanted," Harry said. "And so I said Slytherin."

"Even though it's the house of the snake?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, climbing into bed and pulling the covers over himself.

"Why is that?"

"Because I wanted to stay with you, sir," Harry mumbled as he began to fall asleep on the pillow. Severus went over the bed and ran his fingers through Harry's black hair, watching it spring back into place.

"I'll be back shortly," Severus whispered into Harry's ear, although he doubted whether Harry was awake enough to understand.

.oO-Oo.

Making sure he had his cape billowing behind him, Severus burst into the Slytherin common room, and glared at the scene before him. Everyone of his Slytherins was still up, making a ruckus in the common room as they partook in every sort of tom foolery they could invent.

"There are strict rules regarding curfew," Severus began, addressing everyone. "And I expect them to be followed. Half of you should have been in bed an hour ago. Is that clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir," and "Yes, Professor," rang out through the now silent room.

"Good," Severus drawled, as his eyes darted through the crowd. He noticed Draco watching him closely. "Prefects, I expect you to see to it that curfew is followed, and if it is not, then you will report it to me immediately. You should know where my office and my rooms are. I trust that is also clear?"

"Yes, sir!" his two prefects responded.

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus then said. "Come with me." Draco followed Severus out of the common room into the hallway.

"You wished to speak with me, I presume?" Severus began, crossing his arms.

"Yes, sir," Draco said, trying to practice the new form of address any time he could now. It would be humiliating if he fell into his old forms in the middle of class. "Is Harry alright?"

"As well as can be expected, Draco," Severus said. "He will be fine, but I don't believe he will be attending classes any time soon. What I would like is for you to come and visit him in the evenings sometime. I will get back to you on this later. You would be willing?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said, nodding enthusiastically.

"I understand Harry isn't everything you thought him to be before you met," Severus said, smirking a bit.

"I thought he would be different, yes. I just don't know what to say to him sometimes. He gets scared, but there's nothing to be scared of. We were talking outside the Great Hall and Professor McGonnagall told us to shut up, and he looked like he was going to pass out."

"Well, you should have 'shut up' as you so eloquently put it," Severus said. "What did you tell Harry?"

"That there wasn't anything to be afraid of because nothing was going to happen to us," Draco shrugged. "My dad told me about how he was treated before."

"Yes, and that is something you will not carry around to the other students, is that clear?" Severus demanded. "That secret dies with you. If I hear anyone else talking about it, for the time being, I will know who is to blame."

"Yes, sir," Draco said.

"Good night, Draco," Severus said, giving a nod of his head, and leaving.

"Good night, Uncle Severus!" Draco called back.


	14. The First Day of School

Harry woke with a start, and the first thing he realized was that Snape wasn't beside him. He felt a bit foolish, wanting Snape to sleep with him, but he did want that. So Harry sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There was a note on the pillow that Snape used, and Harry picked it up. Now that he could read, he would have no problem, he hoped, with reading it.

Dear Harry,

You were still sleeping when I had to go to class. I will be back in the afternoon. In the meantime, study the first lesson in your Charms and Transfiguration books. Do not try to practice anything. I will go over it when I get back. Nitty will feed you and help keep you occupied.

Professor Snape

Harry jumped out of bed and began to get dressed for the day. He noticed that his school uniform had been folded and put on a chair. Laying on top of the robes was a green and silver scarf, with a snake on it. Carefully, Harry turned the scarf over in his hands. He felt wonderful about it, even if he did hate snakes. He was part of something bigger than himself now. He belonged somewhere. Draco and Snape both wanted him to be around them, apparently.

Well, that brought up an interesting point. Harry always thought of the man as Snape. Now that they were starting the school year, though, Harry supposed that that wasn't the most respectful way to think of him. Perhaps, Professor? He had mentioned that that was what Draco would call him. It was decided then. Harry would address and think of Snape now as Professor.

Harry tied his scarf on, even if he wasn't dressing in the uniform. The scarf made him feel wanted. Hedwig came flying in from the doorway, and perched herself on his shoulder. She seemed to have a preference for his right shoulder. He had been teaching her all sorts of various tricks. Professor Snape had provided him with little treats for training purposes. Hedwig had been catching on quickly to everything he taught her. They had bonded very deeply over the past month, proving to Severus that the incident with the mouse, while not forgotten, was not inhibiting Harry's bonding abilities with another animal. Unknown to Harry, Severus was hoping that his bonding abilities with people would be just as good.

Harry wandered into the kitchen, and Nitty popped in.

"Hello, Master Harry," Nitty greeted him. "You's slept late. Feeling well?"

"Yes, I am," Harry grinned sheepishly. He looked down at the floor nervously. He didn't want to ask for breakfast. He'd never asked for any food while he was staying with the Professor, and he wasn't about to start now. But he did want to know if he was going to get any, so he didn't dart off to start his school right away either.

"Well?" Nitty prodded. "You's gonna sit down to eat or not?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry said, taking his seat hastily. Nitty caused some eggs and toast to pop into existence in front of him. Quietly, Harry began to eat as Nitty sat across from him.

"Did you's get Master Severus' note?"

"Yeah," Harry replied after he swallowed a mouthful of toast. "Wonderful meal."

"Thanks, Master Harry," Nitty said brightly.

After he had finished, Harry took out his Charms and Transfiguration texts as the Professor had instructed. He began to read them, but it was very hard reading. Harry found himself spending minutes on just the first sentences of Charms, trying to sound out the words, and then wondering what the words meant.

All too soon, Nitty informed him it was time for lunch, and Harry hadn't even finished his Charms text yet. He ate a little bit of the pasta Nitty had fixed, but he didn't feel like eating. He knew if he refused to eat at all, on top of making his Professor angry, Nitty would be hurt. So he forced some down, more for her sake than for his own health though.

Sadly, he returned to his Charms book, and began where he had left off. He was beginning to get very nervous. If he had taken all morning and not even finished his Charms, how would he finish Transfiguration before Professor Snape got back? He was sure he would be angry if he didn't finish what he was asked to do. Well, Harry would just have to try his hardest to finish everything before Professor Snape got back.

Was there such a thing as being kicked out of a house? Would Professor Snape make him leave Slytherin if he didn't manage to keep up on his work? Harry loosened his scarf just thinking about it. He had just gotten a sense of belonging, and now he was botching it. He felt a tightness in his chest as he thought about it. But he plodded on with his Charms, still hoping, even if it was a fool's hope, to finish before Professor Snape got back.

But his stomach wasn't cooperating, and he felt sick. The fear clawed so deeply at him that he had to focus on not loosing his lunch, or what little food had passed for his lunch. Being sick didn't help his comprehension with the textbooks, which only caused his fear to mount the more.

.oO-Oo.

Severus burst into his class of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years. He made sure he did this for all the first years every year. Billowing his cape out behind him, making him look larger and more intimidating than he usually did, which, even he had to admit he usually was, he marched up the middle isle and gave his yearly speech about the power of potions and the importance of paying attention. Thankfully, Ravenclaws were usually adept at potions, and Hufflepuffs were tolerable, even if outrageously annoying.

He had them start on their potions, and within ten minutes, he had spelled Neville's potion away before it exploded in his face.

"Mr. Longbottom," he drawled, "I trust that next time you will read the instructions, and put the ingredients in in the right order."

"Yes, Professor," Neville responded.

By the end of the class, most of the students had a sample of their potions for him. Neville wasn't the only one to get his spelled away. Severus picked up a particularly good bottle and turned it over in his hand.

"Miss Granger," he said. "Ten points to Ravenclaw for your potion."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, blushing a little.

"You are dismissed," Severus said to the whole class. "Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger, please stay after to speak with me."

Neville visibly paled, and he and Hermione exchanged a glace. Hermione shrugged at Neville, and didn't appear too worried. Cautiously, Neville crept towards Severus' desk, making sure Hermione was one step closer to the perceived threat than he was.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence.

"I have something of a problem," Severus began, sighing and looking at both of them. "And I was hoping you could help me. Mr. Potter is not currently able to attend classes, and he is staying in my chambers for the moment. I was hoping that you would be willing, once a week, individually, to come and visit him."

"Why can't Harry attend classes, sir?" Hermione asked.

"That, Miss Granger, is a complicated story, and not one I will go into now. Suffice to say that he isn't. Would you be willing to come on Monday evening, next week?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, definitely curious.

"And you, Mr. Longbottom, would you be willing to come on Tuesday evening?" Neville's eyes got wide and he began to stammer. "If you're concerned about your atrocious attempt at what you call potions, I will promise not to chop you into my ingredients," Severus said, running his hand over his face, trying to suppress a smirk. "I am not choosing you based on your performance in my class, but rather your reputations and how well I feel you can represent your houses to Mr. Potter. Will you come down to my chambers?"

"Y-yes, sir," Neville sputtered. "I'm sorry about my potion, sir." Neville looked at the ground, and he appeared to be on the verge of being sick.

"Relax, Mr. Longbottom," Severus said. Alright, he hadn't been overly kind to the Longbottom boy, but honestly, this sort of reaction was a bit over the top. "Simply read your instructions through before you begin your potion and you should be fine. Now, both of you be off before you're late for your next class."

"Yes, sir," both said together, grabbed their bags and left the classroom.

.oO-Oo.

Severus' next class was with the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Why ever Dumbledore had scheduled the Gryffindors and the Slytherins together he would never know. Perhaps between the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs, both his periods would be unbearable?

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, please stay after class," he announced as he dismissed the rest of them. Both boys came up to the desk, Draco with curiosity and confidence, Ron with just false bravado. Ron had no idea why he was being asked to stay after class. His mother had given him stern instructions to not goof off in Professor Snape's class and he was trying to follow that. He hadn't been corrected the whole duration of the class!

"I have a certain problem, and I was hoping that the two of you would be able to help me," Severus began again with them. "Mr. Potter cannot attend classes currently, and is in my chambers. I was wondering if the two of you would be willing to visit him once a week? Mr. Malfoy, will you come on this Wednesday?"

"Yes, sir!" Draco said brightly. He suspected that staying after class had something to do with Harry and he was thrilled to be able to see Harry again, and his godfather. He wasn't sure why he liked Harry so much, but maybe it had something to do with Harry's quiet and gentle nature.

"Mr. Weasley, can you come Thursday, barring any detentions you may incur if you decide to follow your twin bothers' example?" Secretly, Severus was always amused at the pranks the Weasley twins pulled. They were always clever, very well thought out, and, regrettably, funny. The twins were also usually responsible at not risking anyone's safety in their pranks.

"No, sir, I mean, yes, sir," Ron said. "I can visit him, sir, and I won't pull pranks, sir," he clarified.

"Did your mother have a talk with you, Mr. Weasley?" Severus asked. Usually he wouldn't expect such cooperation from a Weasley. If Molly had spoken with the boy, it would probably wear off in a week, and he would have a normal Weasley on his hands again. After all, it didn't seem that Ron had made any real friends yet, so that would account for some of it. He didn't have any bad influences.

"Yes, sir!" Ron said.

"I see," Severus responded. "Well, if she asks, you can tell your mother that I thought your potion and behavior were quite tolerable today." Molly would understand that from him to a Gryffindor, especially a Weasley, "quite tolerable" meant that he had nothing to complain about. Well-mannered Gryffindors were certainly not nearly the problem that the rude ones were. "You may go."

Draco and Ron grabbed their bags, and left the room, speaking quietly.

.oO-Oo.

He entered his chambers. Monday classes, check! Breathing a sigh of relief at having survived the first day, Severus went into the sitting room where he found Harry on the couch with a book in his lap. Harry looked up at him quickly, and began to tremble.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked. If Nitty had messed up again, he really was going to have to do something with that house elf! He began going through a list of things he could do, checking off the ones that were insensitive or wrong.

"I'm sorry!" Harry blurted out, his eyes swimming in tears, as Severus rounded the couch and sat beside Harry. Harry had his arms wrapped around his aching middle.

"What do you have there?" he asked, picking up Harry's book. "Transfiguration. I see. You've been working all day on Charms and Transfiguration but you haven't finished. And you think I'm going to be upset."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated. "I tried, but...but..."

"I never intended you work all day on it Harry," Severus said. "I really should have known you weren't up to reading all that. Don't worry. I'm not upset at all."

"Then...I can stay in Slytherin?" Harry asked cautiously, hopefully.

"Of course," Severus said, bringing Harry into a quick embrace. "You can't leave your house. You're stuck there for good. And you're stuck with me for your head of house." As if for good measure, Severus tightened the Slytherin scarf on Harry's neck. "I'll help you with your lessons. No need to worry."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, trying out the new name. Severus blinked a moment, but accepted the title wordlessly.

"In two days, Draco should be down here to visit you," Severus continued. "And after that, there's a few others who would like to visit. Is that acceptable?"

"They don't have to," Harry said quickly, shaking his head. "They have other friends. It's fine."

"Ah, but they want to. Will that be alright?"

"Only if they really want to," Harry sighed. They sat in silence for a moment. "Why would anyone want to visit me?"

"Because," Severus said, "you really are worth visiting, even if you don't believe it yet. Draco and the others can see it, even though the others don't even know you yet."

Then the great silver snake entered the room. Severus sighed, and put his arm around Harry.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Harry whispered.

"Yes," Severus growled. "What is it?" he said addressing the patronus.

"We have another meeting tonight," the snake began in Lucius' voice. "I'm sorry to put you out in the middle of the week, but I would fear more for your safety if you didn't attend. Please come as soon as you can." The snake disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Well, Harry," Severus said, "it looks like I have to go for awhile. Like last time, I don't know what will happen, but I will do my best to come back to you in one piece, alright? Good. Now, just forget about your Transfiguration for awhile, and play with Nitty. She'll feed you supper. Don't worry about me too much. I'll be fine."

"What happens if you're not?"

.oO-Oo.

Harry watched the snake with growing apprehension. In addition to it being a snake, the message it was delivering was scaring him. He didn't want Professor Snape to have to go to another one of those meetings, because, in all honesty, Harry wasn't convinced that he would come back alive.

If Professor Snape was killed at one of these meetings, in addition to having gotten him killed, what would happen to him, Harry? He knew that if Professor Snape died, he was responsible and therefore would deserve everything that would happen to him. But he still couldn't face going back to the Dursleys. Having experienced something so much better, so much more wonderful, how could he go back? Just the thought felt like it was suffocating him, killing him.

"What do you mean?" Professor Snape asked.

"I'll have to go back to the Dursley's, won't I?" Harry whispered.

"No," the Professor said definitively. "I have arranged that if anything were to happen to me, Mr. Malfoy will see to it that you are kept safe. He gave me his word, which is to him a very binding thing, to keep you from anyone who would want to hurt you. You will never go back to the Dursleys."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said.

"I need to go now. Be good while I'm gone."

"I will," Harry whispered.

"I know you will," the Professor assured him, and gave him a small smile which warmed him deeply.

.oO-Oo.

Severus stepped through the fireplace into Lucius' sitting room, and he had his trademark scowl on his face. He felt more apprehensive about this meeting than usual, though not as much as last time. He did wonder who would take over his classes the next day if he wasn't recovered enough to teach. Dumbledore wouldn't, since apparently they were on nowhere near friendly terms anymore. Likely, no matter how awful he felt, no matter what agony he was in, he would have to teach the next day. Not a pleasant thought, which helped him with his mask.

"Hello, Lucius," he greeted the blonde man coldly. He knew Lucius knew not to take any offense by his manners at a meeting.

"Hello, Severus," Lucius responded. "Please take a seat." Severus looked around and noticed that all the others were present. He locked gazes with Nott, and the two sneered at each other for a moment. "Nott called this meeting, and so I believe he should be the one to take its direction now."

"Thank you, Malfoy," Nott said, playing with his wand, but careful, Severus noticed, to have it ready and pointed at him in a moments notice. So he drew his own wands quietly to be ready to deflect any spells that should be shot his way. He had too much to fight for. He couldn't let Harry down.

"I have called this meeting," Nott began, "because I think we should see to it that Snape is raising Harry according to standard. I call for a motion that Harry Potter attend the Death Eater meetings!"

"You must be joking!" Lucius exclaimed.

"Potter will not attend anything!" Severus hissed.

"I call for a vote," Nott said. "A two thirds majority to make anything come to pass. And I don't care that you do have Malfoy on your side. The reason we're Death Eaters is to be equals. That's the whole purpose. Political influence doesn't matter here. Any who feel that Potter should attend the meetings in order to ensure his education, cast your magical signature into the blue vase."

Wands were drawn, spells cast, and in a moment, little balls of light, representing the signatures, floated in the vase. Those who had cast: Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, McNair, and Avery.

"All against, in the red vase." Nott smirked at Severus, who scowled at the red vase as he and Lucius cast their own. "Five to two, and I believe that Potter must attend."

"You wouldn't have Theodore attend these meetings," Severus said, his teeth clenched, and refusing to meet Nott's gaze. "Crabbe, Goyle, would you have your sons attend? Who here has a child that they would bring to these meetings?" By the end, Severus was shouting, and had gotten to his feet.

"Severus makes a point," Lucius said. "If we are all as equal as you say we are, Nott, then all of our children must attend the meetings, loath as I am to say it."

"Humph," Nott grunted. "Alright, fair enough. We can all bring our children to their own junior Death Eater meetings. We can all check up on each others' children. Bring Potter now, though. We have already discussed it," Nott glanced at the others who had voted with him, "and we want to see him now." Severus rolled his eyes at Nott and made a face. "How tastefully childish," Nott mocked.

"And what if I refuse to bring him?" Severus asked darkly.

"Be careful," Lucius whispered, but only loud enough for Severus to hear.

"Then we will lay in wait for the moment Potter leaves Hogwarts. And when he does, because he can't live the rest of his life there, we will kill him on sight. No questions asked. And I won't need to mention the fate that will await you." Nott smirked gleefully. He knew that Severus wouldn't risk his life. Harry had come to mean too much for him, and he would not risk his life unnecessarily, for Harry's sake.

"I will be back momentarily," Severus grunted grudgingly. Glaring at Nott, he flooed back to his chambers, where Harry lay curled up on the couch, sleeping, undoubtedly awaiting his return.

"Nitty!" Severus called softly. She appeared in front of him.

"What's happened, Master Severus?" she asked. Obviously she could see that nothing had happened to him at this point, and he always had something wrong with him when he came back. Of course she would know something was different.

"I need to take Harry," he said. "I will be back as soon as possible. Please have a warm bath ready for him when we get back." He wouldn't allow any of them to hurt Harry in the slightest, but the warm bath would sooth his nerves and tight muscles.

"Yes, Master Severus," Nitty returned. Severus knelt next to Harry, and shook his shoulder softly.

"Harry," he whispered. "Harry."

"Hmm?" Harry muttered. "Oh! You're back! And...you look fine." Harry's voice almost made the last statement a question.

"I'm fine right now," Severus whispered. "But something has come up, and I have to bring you to the meeting. The alternative is worse. Please trust me. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." Harry nodded cautiously.

"They hate me though," he muttered.

"Yes, most of them do, apparently," Severus agreed. "But Mr. Malfoy and I will see to it that you aren't hurt. The others want to see to it that I am raising you to be a Death Eater like I promised them."

"You...you told them I would be a Death Eater?" Harry asked, paling rapidly.

"Yes," Severus sighed. "It was the only way to placate them last time. I'm sorry. You don't have to be. We'll talk about this later. But just tell them that I am. I'll help with the answers if I can, but keep to the story that I am teaching you, but progress hasn't started yet because we've been taking care of other things, like clothes, and reading. I promise no one there will think the less of you for your background. You don't need to be ashamed of anything."

"What if I'm not a good enough liar?"

"I'll deal with that if it comes up," Severus said. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine. Come." They flew back to Lucius' sitting room, Harry's hand still in Severus' from the trip.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had left the country," Nott drawled at him. Severus just arched an eyebrow in response.

"Please do not mistake my compliance in this as my approval," Severus growled. "This is Mr. Harry Potter. Harry, you already know Mr. Malfoy. This is Mr. Nott, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, Mr. Avery, and Mr. McNair." The others nodded.

"Hello, Harry," Lucius said. "How have you been?"

"Fine, sir," Harry said, smiling a little at him for his kind tone in the stressful situation.

"How did the sorting go?" Lucius continued. He and Severus exchanged a glance, which told Severus that he was trying to lead the questions the others would undoubtedly want to ask in the kindest and gentlest way he could. Severus was secretly appreciative for Lucius' tact.

"Fine, sir," Harry said again. "I got Slytherin and so did Draco."

"That's very good," Lucius said. He shot an angry glace at the others in the room. "How has your education been coming?"

"I - " Harry began. "I learned to read this month," he whispered softly, still scared about admitting that little fact. "And I started my Charms and Transfiguration books today."

"Learning to read is very important," Lucius said, trying to repeat enough that the others wouldn't demand Harry repeat it. "Do you like reading?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Have you cast any spells yet?"

"No, sir!" Harry gasped, suddenly looking horrified and glancing around the room nervously.

"That's fine, Harry," Lucius said. "Have you been told about the Dark Lord?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, sticking his chin out a little defiantly. But not too much. Severus stiffened, knowing that these were probably the most touchy questions now, and he could sense that Harry knew this too. Brilliant boy.

"I readily admit," Severus began, stepping in front of Harry a bit, and addressing the other Death Eaters, "that his education is sorely lacking on this topic. But as you already heard, I have been teaching him to read, among a plethora of other things."

"What's your pain tolerance, boy?" Nott asked. Harry winced at being called boy, and kept his eyes closed. "You need to have a high one to be a Death Eater."

"Please don't hurt me," Harry whimpered. "I'm sorry I killed the Dark Lord. I didn't mean to."

"It's not your fault, Harry," Lucius said. "But I don't suppose you know how you did it?"

"No, sir," Harry said. "I'm sorry." He began to silently plead with Lucius about the question on pain tolerance.

"Take your shirt off, Potter," Nott said, standing up and walking over to Harry who took a half step closer to Severus.

"Nott!" Severus hissed. "What is the meaning of this? Harry has answered all of your questions!"

"I want to see that he was as abused as you say," Nott said. "Or rather, that he got what he deserved at the hands of his relatives." Harry's eyes were still closed, and he flinched at Nott's words, drawing closer to Severus, who put a protecting arm around him.

"I promised him he would not be hurt coming here, and I intend to keep that promise," Severus growled.

"Oh, don't come between the mama bear and her cub," Nott mocked. Severus sneered at him.

"If it's worth anything to you, Nott," Lucius interjected, "I saw Harry in Diagon Alley, and my assessment is that everything Severus has said is true."

"Of course you would support him," Nott muttered. "Take off your shirt."

"Don't, Harry," Severus said. "Nott, I won't have this. This is going too far."

"Then I'm afraid we'll just have to try another means of persuasion on you, until you see that you'll have to allow it."

"I don't care," Severus hissed. He just didn't know what to do with the situation. Nott was setting this up to hurt Harry the most he could, and if he allowed it, it was terrible. But if he was tortured in front of Harry, that was also unthinkable.

"Potter would have to see it," Nott pointed out. And Severus hissed incoherent words at him, at Nott's perception.

"I can take it off," Harry whispered. "It's not that big a deal."

.oO-Oo.

Harry wasn't stupid. He knew that this man called Nott was threatening to torture his Professor, and his Professor was willing to fight for him. But he wasn't going to have any of this stupid bravery stuff on his hands. It killed him inside to show anyone his scars, even his Professor, yes, but it would hurt worse to have Professor Snape injured on his behalf.

"I can take it off," he whispered. "It's not that big a deal." Before Professor Snape could object, Harry had stripped off his shirt, revealing the long silver scars running across his still too thin torso. He glanced up at Nott with guarded eyes. Nott reached out and grabbed him by his upper arm. Harry let out a small yelp as Nott drew him closer. He remembered all too vividly being grabbed like that by Uncle Vernon.

"Let him go," Professor Snape hissed menacingly as he grabbed Nott's wrist. Harry could see each of the Professor's tendons as he held Nott.

"Let go of me, half-blood," Nott sneered.

"Not until you let Harry go." The Professor muttered something, and Nott immediately released him with a howl of pain. Nott whipped his hand in the air and blew on it.

"Crucio!" Nott yelled, aiming his wand at the Professor. Deftly, Professor Snape stepped aside, and the light that came from the wand hit the fireplace, causing a stone to crack. Professor Snape returned with his own spell after that, which Nott blocked with a shield.

"Please," Mr. Malfoy said. "I don't want to have my house destroyed with you two dueling." Harry noticed the quick glance Mr. Malfoy gave him, and it looked genuinely concerned.

"Turn," Nott told him coldly. Without question, Harry did as he was told, and showed Nott his back. "They did their job well," Nott observed, smirking.

"You can put your shirt back on, Harry," Professor Snape instructed, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sorry you've had to listen to this prattling idiot."

With his shirt back on, Harry noticed Professor Snape's eyes boring into each of the men, except Mr. Malfoy.

"Well? Are you satisfied now?" he pressed. "Have you seen enough?"

"Till next time," Nott agreed. "I call the meeting adjured." In turn, each of the Death Eaters thanked Mr. Malfoy for the use of his house, and disappeared. Finally, just Nott, Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy, and Harry were left.

"Thank you, Malfoy," Nott said, with a mocking bow. He turned to leave, but at the last second spun around and cried, "Crucio!" again. Only this time it was aimed at Harry, and Professor Snape had put his wand away. Without thinking, Professor Snape pushed Harry to the ground, but caught the spell himself. Harry saw his Professor's face twist in a grimace of pain, and his hand went to his wand which he drew. Wordlessly, a burst of light came from his wand and disarmed Nott, releasing Professor Snape from the spell.

"That, Harry," Professor Snape said, with a smirk, but still twisted in a bit of pain, as Nott picked up his wand and disapparated, "was the Expelliarmus spell. It disarms your opponent. You would do well to learn that one."

.oO-Oo.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience of the whole thing," Lucius broke in.

"That's perfectly alright, Lucius," Severus replied, trying to hide a wince as he moved to the fireplace. At least he hadn't totally lost his mask in front of Harry. It was bad enough that Harry had been threatened, and he had been cursed. "It was not your doing. Come along, Harry, you have some Transfiguration left." Harry trotted to stand beside Severus, looking up expectantly at his face. Severus put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and the two flooed back to Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry about all that," Severus said as soon as Harry had regained his footing. "I never had any intention of bringing you to one of those meetings, much less having Nott try to curse you. Let me see your hands." Harry had taken the brunt of his fall on his palms, and after careful inspection, Severus found no marks left from his fall.

"Nitty has a warm bath for you," Severus said. "You should take it, and relax some. Then come back down here and we can talk." Harry had begun to take his baths on his own. As he gained weight and balance, Severus became less concerned about accidents occurring. Harry complied, and Severus sank down onto the couch. He closed his eyes, and began to drift asleep.

"You want me to be a Death Eater?" he heard Harry's voice suddenly ask, and Severus noticed that Harry eyed him with a sidelong gaze.

"That's a delicate subject, Harry," Severus said, sighing a bit as he woke up. He motioned that Harry should sit by him. "Remember when I told you that I couldn't tell you which side I'm really on? Well, if I were to tell you, when we're alone here, whether I want you to be a Death Eater or not, that would give away which side I'm really on, wouldn't it? If I tell you that I want you to be a Death Eater, then that would mean I truly work for the Dark Lord. And if I tell you I don't want you to be a Death Eater, then that would mean I truly work for Dumbledore. Therefore, I cannot tell you what I would really like to see you do. In the meantime, apparently Nott has arranged for meetings to be held for all of the children of the Death Eaters, and you will have to attend those. I have assured the Death Eaters that you will be one, and I have assured Dumbledore that you won't be. Do you understand?"

"Does - does that mean - that I'm your child?" Harry asked quietly. Severus looked shocked for a moment, then slowly reached out and held Harry's hand in his own. He began to rub circles of the back of the hand with his thumb. He truly did love the child like his child. But Harry wasn't by anyone's definition his child. He wasn't Harry's biological father. He hadn't adopted Harry. He wasn't even Harry's legal guardian.

"I love you like the son I never had," Severus responded just as quietly. He brought Harry close, and whispered so quietly that Harry couldn't make out the words, "You should have been mine."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Growling slightly, Severus got up, leaving Harry on the couch and rolled his eyes at the interruption. He stalked out of the room and opened the door.

"Minerva," he said. "Can I help you with something?"

"I was wondering how Harry is doing," she said. "I haven't seen him since the sorting feast. He was looking much better than when you brought him here, but that wouldn't take much care at all."

"Harry is doing fine, Minerva," he said. "It will be a long road, but we are making definite progress."

"Perhaps I could see him?"

"Perhaps nothing," Severus drawled. "He's not ready to be visited by an adult he doesn't know yet. Soon. But not tonight."

"My animangus form, maybe?" Minerva suggested hopefully. "What little boy wouldn't like a visit from a kitty?" She blinked innocently at Severus who rolled his eyes again.

"Alright, fine, in 'kitty' form only," he grunted. Really, these Gryffindor women. But he had to admit, it was a good idea. Harry wouldn't be scared by the cat. It would satisfy Minerva, and Harry would not be put out. So as he walked back to Harry, a ginger cat followed him. Severus sat down and gestured to the cat.

"A cat has come to visit you," Severus said. "Professor McGonnagall brought her down. The cat would like to get to know you a little bit. Is that alright?" Harry's mouth was slightly open, and he slipped off the couch wordlessly. He reached his hand out to the cat, palm up, and she rubbed her whiskers against his finger tips. Harry ran his fingers through that cat's fur, and the cat hopped into Harry's lap, curling up and purring.

"She - she likes me?" Harry asked, shocked, as he looked at Severus.

"I would imagine, since it isn't in the nature of cats to purr at those they don't like," he drawled lightly, amused at Minerva's and Harry's actions. Severus closed his eyes, trying to rest a bit from the meeting.

"I believe this cat has to start trotting off to her chambers," Severus said after some time had past, and Harry was still stroking Minerva's fur. Severus could imagine the heart attack the poor boy would have if he knew he was really petting a woman old enough to be his grandmother in animal form. Since Severus knew that the animangus would still carry certain human traits, he noticed that the cat shot him an annoyed glance at the sentence. Reluctantly, the cat jumped off Harry's lap and followed Severus to the door. Only after Severus had it open and the cat was out of his chambers did Minerva resume her natural form.

"I trust you enjoyed the petting?" Severus sneered good-naturedly.

"Of course," Minerva smirked. "He's a very wonderful boy, Severus. Take good care of him. I know you will."

"I will try my best," Severus promised. "It's not an easy job, raising a boy, an abused one, and then being a spy besides. I just ask that no matter what rumors you may hear, know that I have Harry's best interests at heart."

"Yes," Minerva said, now slightly worried. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing, right now," Severus said. "It's what gets planned around me that worries me. I can't speak to you of that, though," he continued, knowing that he couldn't explain the inner workings of the Death Eaters to Minerva.

"Alright," Minerva said, skeptically. "I will be here to help you in any way I can. You know that. Don't be afraid to take me up on the offer."

"I won't," Severus said. "I will contact you if I feel I need any help."

"Good," Minerva said. "See that you do. Good night."

"Good night," Severus replied, softly closing his door. He went back to where Harry was, and found him still sitting on the floor, looking at his hands curiously.

"Is there anything wrong?" Severus asked.

"No," Harry said slowly. "The cat let me pet her."

"You should probably go find Hedwig before she gets jealous," Severus smirked, sitting back down on the couch. "Show me those tricks you've been telling me you've taught her."


	15. A Dish Best Served Cold

Harry looked downright terrible. Yes, he was showing Severus the tricks his owl could do, but he looked defeated.

"Those are very clever tricks," Severus said, trying to gauge Harry.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry muttered sorrowfully.

"What's wrong?" Severus said after a minute, slightly exasperated. He needed to get Harry to a point where he would volunteer what was wrong. Unfortunately, they seemed a long way off from that.

"It's nothing," Harry shrugged, letting Hedwig sit on his shoulder, and Harry turned to replace Hedwig on her perch.

"I highly doubt that," Severus replied. "Put your owl away and then come back here." Harry wordlessly did as he was told, and he stood nervously beside the couch, waiting for Severus to speak.

"What's bothering you?"

"It's fine, sir," Harry insisted. "You've done so much."

"No, I've only done what should have been done long ago," Severus said. "Now, come sit down and tell me what's really bothering you." Harry nodded, and sat on the edge of the sofa. "Well?" Severus prompted.

"It's just - " Harry began and cut off, looking up at Severus, who felt a stab of pain at the expression in his eyes. Lily's eyes. "It's just...what if Mr. Nott is right? What if I did deserve it?" Harry looked down, and Severus saw one lonely tear roll down his cheek.

"You didn't," Severus assured him, brushing the tear away. "Remember, you and I are the same. Whenever you find yourself in that trap of thoughts, remember that we are the same." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "You didn't deserve anything that happened to you at the hands of your relatives. Nott hates you for having brought about the fall of the Dark Lord. He is a very lonely man. I'm sorry you've ever had to meet him."

"Why is he lonely?" Harry asked.

"His wife died, and left him with a son," Severus answered. "He had no other friends. He's always been cruel, Harry, and he doesn't realize it, but his cruelty drives people away from him. He's cruel because he doesn't have friends, and he doesn't have friends because he's cruel." Harry looked thoughtfully at the ground. "There's something on your mind," Severus accused. "State it."

"Do you have any friends, sir?" he asked cautiously.

"A few, of sorts," he said. "There's Mr. Malfoy," he offered, after a moment. Harry nodded. "Your mother was a very good friend. She was the best friend I've ever had." Harry just looked up at him. "Hang on." Severus sighed, and got up, moving over to an old trunk where he began to burrow in for a few moments. Finally, he came back over to the couch and took his seat again next to Harry.

"This, Harry," Severus said, "is your mother." Harry gasped as he looked at the picture. A beautiful woman with long, streaming red hair gazed back at him, smiling and waving. Beside her stood a young man with black hair, who smiled softly at her.

"Hi, mom," Harry whispered, as he waved back a little.

"She can't hear you, Harry," Severus whispered back, not willing to break the reverence of the moment. "This is just how wizards keep pictures."

"Oh," Harry said, clearly disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Severus said. "This is the best I have of her. Would you like to keep it?" Sure, the picture meant a lot to him. It was the last thing he had of Lily before she died. It had been taken a few months before the announcement of her engagement to James. After her death, he locked all his memories in that trunk, and never looked at them. Surely it was a selfish thing to keep this picture of Lily for himself, where he refused to even look at it, when Harry, who had never even seen his mother, would desire it as much as he did, and use it more.

"You really don't have to," Harry said, blushing a bit, revealing just how much he really did want it.

"No, it's fine," Severus assured him. "As you saw, I keep it in a trunk. You have as much right to it as I do, more even. You're her own flesh and blood. I was - just a friend. Please. Keep it. Take good care of it." Severus closed Harry's hesitant fingers around the ornate frame.

"Thank you, sir," Harry gasped, tears filling his eyes, but Harry willed them not to fall.

"We should probably get you to bed, young man," Severus said, changing his tone to a very business-like one. Harry looked from the picture in his hands to Severus and then back to the picture. Once again, Severus could tell there was something on his mind. "What is it?"

"Nothing, sir," Harry said quickly. Silently, Severus used a quick form of Legillimens to brush over the foremost thoughts in Harry's mind.

"Could it be that you would like your own room now?" Severus suggested, after viewing the impressions. "Now that you have Hedwig, and your mother's image, I don't think it's such a bad idea." Harry smiled slowly at the picture he still held in a death grip. "Come here, I still have your room ready for you."

Severus led Harry into an additional room. It was plain, but well-furnished. There was a comfortable bed, a desk and chair, wardrobe, dresser, and night stand. In the dark, Harry couldn't tell any coloring in the room, but he felt the soft carpet under his feet. Severus summoned his clothes, and left him to change for bed.

"I'll be back in a few moments," Severus said. He had been trying to perform little bits of magic here and there in front of Harry. Just to get him accustomed to the idea. True to his word, Severus was back, and Harry crawled into bed, clutching the photograph to himself.

"Here, I'll put it on your nightstand," Severus said, gently taking the frame and setting it up where Harry could easily see his mother's smiling face. "She'll be looking over you. You don't have to worry." Severus laid his hand on Harry's head. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Professor," Harry murmured.

.oO-Oo.

In the morning, Harry woke with a start. He realized immediately that he was alone, and in a strange room. Panicky, he threw the covers off of himself. He felt his heart fill with dread when he heard a crash, and knew exactly what it was.

The photograph from last night. He'd caught it on the covers and it had fallen to the floor, the frame shattering in a thousand pieces. Heedless of his bare feet, Harry slipped off his bed and knelt next to the shards of frame, and picked the picture from the mess. His mother was still smiling and waving to him. It drove the idea home that she in fact couldn't see or hear him. If she could, she wouldn't be smiling and waving at her klutz of a son who had broken one of Professor Snape's most prized possessions.

It hadn't taken him twelve hours and already it was broken. The feelings welling up inside him were many and strong. Not the least of which was terror. He was scared of what would happen to him now that he messed up. He knew that Professor Snape had promised not to beat him, but maybe this was enough to make him pull back from his promise. After all, he hadn't been careful enough.

Why hadn't Professor Snape listened when he had said that he shouldn't have it? Harry knew something like this was going to happen. It always did. He was always breaking things by being clumsy. Well, that if not when Dudley would trip him or something and he'd break it that way. But no, this was entirely his fault. There wasn't any Dudley to blame this time, even in his mind.

Quickly, he shoved the frame, the broken shards of glass, and the photograph under the bed. The only thing to do was to hope that Professor Snape never found out. And from that moment, Harry felt a black shroud of guilt and fear cover him, because of that secret.

Out on the dining room table, Harry found a note similar to yesterday's.

Dear Harry,

I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to go over yesterday's lessons. If you care to, you can read your first lessons in potions and herbology today. Do not try anything it says to do. Also, do not be upset if you can't finish it. I want you to take a break after lunch, since I'm sure you'll be working on your school all morning, and play with Nitty for a couple of hours. Remember that with Nitty, Hedwig, and the picture of your mother, you're never really alone.

Professor Snape

Harry winced at the last sentence. He didn't want to think about that picture, because it was quickly becoming quite a sore spot for him. He always destroyed the prettiest things. His mother's picture had been beautiful, and now he wouldn't let it watch over him anymore. How could she stand to watch him? Of course he knew it was just a picture. But how could his mother in heaven stand to watch him? He shook those thoughts from his head. It hurt too much. He might as well start reading his potions book.

.oO-Oo.

Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office. He had a stack of letters on his desk, correspondence, with some unknown party. The letters were clearly old. Half were Muggle post and the other half was wizard post. But a spell had been cast on those letters so that no one but Albus could see the words.

Albus sorted through them, reading parts of some, setting others aside without a second glance. He looked old and tired, the usual grin and twinkle gone. How many people knew that he wore that mask? His position in life wasn't the easy one he tried to put on. Sure, most people knew he didn't play an easy role. But did anyone know the tole his decisions took on him?

He popped a lemon drop into his mouth. Well, that wasn't a mask, at least. He really did have a passion for his lemon drops.

Severus would never understand. Albus laid his elbows on the desk and ran his hands over his face. Severus. He missed the man. Contrary to what he would have the man believe, he actually didn't want to hurt him. But he couldn't afford to have Severus meddling where he didn't belong.

Albus knew the philosophies that drove Severus. Despite his time as a Death Eater, and despite his tolerance of those who disagreed with him, Severus did possess a very strong belief in the black and white of morality sometimes. It was a bit odd, seeing his time as a spy, but Albus suspected that his narrow-mindedness probably came from his experiences. Severus had had a lot of difficult experiences, and he probably needed something to cling to in his own personal storm.

Albus' own philosophies were much different. Severus looked after the individual, and Albus tried to look after the cause. Sometimes, in a war, terrible terrible things had to be done. Sometimes, in order to protect the many, a few had to suffer. Severus would never understand this. Albus knew it.

Everything he had done, against Voldemort, for the Light, for the Order, Albus felt justified in. He admitted to himself that he didn't like most of what he had been done. But he felt he had no other choice. He had to have done those things, or Voldemort would have won. And if Voldemort had won, what then? The terrible things that would have happened then would have been unimaginable.

If Severus knew everything he had done, the man would never forgive him. Which was why he needed to keep everything a secret. He couldn't afford to lose his spy. He had already lost his friend.

.oO-Oo.

Thankfully, the lingering pain of the Cruciatus had been minimal. It hadn't been too bad to get up in the morning and teach. He'd been through worse. So he had made it through the day, teaching those dunderheads. And now he was walking back to his chambers, hoping that everything was alright with Harry.

There were things that needed to be done. He wasn't sure how he would explain this to Harry, but he had to somehow. Lately, the thought of the Dursleys had been returning to his mind quite frequently. He had to do something about them, and he knew that no one was going to help him with this. He had promised to see them punished for their actions, and he intended to keep that promise.

"Harry?" he called as soon as he finished closing the chamber door behind him. There was no answer, but Severus looked into the sitting room and saw Harry focused on one of his text books. "That will be enough studying for one day," Severus said, no getting Harry's attention.

"Hello, sir," Harry said nervously. Severus wasn't sure why he was nervous, but decided to let it pass. "I haven't finished my herbology yet."

"That's fine. Did you finish potions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. And did you play with Nitty like I told you to?"

"Yes, sir. We played Exploding Snap again."

"A good choice," Severus said approvingly, figuring he should say something encouraging at the volunteered information. "I need to go out and take care of some business."

"Alright, sir," Harry said, confused.

"It concerns you, so I thought you should know something of what I'm doing," he continued. "I will be going back to the Dursleys - alone -" he emphasized at the panicked look that crossed Harry's face, "to see to it that they are suitably dealt with. I am not going to give you back. That thought is the farthest from my mind right now."

"You - you don't have to do that," Harry said even more nervously now.

"Yes, I do," Severus contradicted, "but that's not the point."

"Please don't hurt them!" Harry suddenly pleaded. Severus raised an eyebrow curiously.

"And why ever not?"

"Well, because - because -," Harry stammered, "because if you hurt them, then why would you be any better than they are?" Severus nodded thoughtfully.

"Justice needs to happen though," Severus said. "I am glad that you do not seek revenge. But you need to understand, if nothing else, the extent of what they did. You don't understand. You can't. But what they did was very serious and very wrong. And there needs to be no chance that they can ever do it again."

"They won't," Harry promised. "They would only do it to freaks! They've never hurt Dudley."

"Hush," Severus interrupted. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, they have hurt Dudley." Severus said the name with extreme distaste. "They have trained him to be cruel and judgmental, prejudiced and selfish. I don't believe for a minute that they would beat or starve Dudley," although, he thought, perhaps a little less food wouldn't hurt the boy any, "but that doesn't mean they haven't hurt him."

"So...what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet," Severus admitted, "but if it makes it any easier on you, I promise I won't land myself in prison over it. I feel I should speak to them before I do too much."

"Alright," Harry reluctantly agreed.

"Then I will be on my way," Severus said. "I don't know how long it will take. You can put your books away and do something fun, if you like." With that, Severus left his chambers, to disapparate outside Hogwarts.

.oO-Oo.

Severus made sure he apparated into a little used alley, and walked to Private Drive from there. He was more troubled about this visit than he was angry actually, which he was grateful for. The less temper he had to reign in, the better. The more rational he was, the less chance of Azkaban. He was troubled because he wasn't sure what he was going to say. He wanted to be the one to defend Harry, but he didn't want to overstep his legal boundaries.

He knew that by the end of this visit, either he or the Dursleys would be in custody of the wizarding law. Yes, he was risking his job at Hogwarts by doing this, but as long as he wasn't the one in custody for doing something totally irrational, he thought he could at least fight the dismissal.

Severus knocked on the front door, and assumed a neutral stance. Momentarily, Petunia opened the door. Her eyes widened when she saw Severus standing there.

"And?" she asked after a short pause.

"I am here to discuss the matter of Harry Potter," he said. "I trust you have a moment?" He scowled at her, but he tried to keep his voice even and calm.

"If you want to bring him back here, I'm afraid that's not happening," Petunia responded.

"I - will - never - do - that," Severus hissed, now angry, pronouncing each word quietly and carefully. "Now, let me in, woman!" Without waiting for her consent, he opened the door and stepped into the house.

"And I suppose you want tea as well?" Petunia spat.

"Absolutely not," Severus said quickly. "Do not mistake this for a social call. I am here strictly on legal matters." Severus sat down at the table, and gestured for Petunia to do the same. "Where is your animal of a husband?"

"Vernon," Petunia said, emphasis on the name, "is upstairs." She called to him, and he came down the stairs where he saw Severus.

"And what does he want?" Vernon demanded, addressing Petunia.

"I am here to ask you some questions regarding Harry Potter," he said. He didn't want to give away too much about his plans about bringing them into custody yet. Vernon sighed heavily, and sat down at the table as well.

"If you're going to ask about the freak, get on with it," he growled. Severus slammed his palm on the table, causing both of them to jump.

"I will not have you calling him that!" Severus hissed. "He has a name. Use it. Now. Where is your son?"

"In his room, playing video games," Vernon replied.

"Good, he can stay there," Severus said, taking his wand out and casting a silencing charm around them. He suspected this conversation could get loud. "Do you realize what you've done to your son by this whole situation?"

"Do you realize what you freaks have done to our son by thrusting that...boy on us?" Vernon responded.

"What do you think we've done?" Severus asked tiredly. He hated the thought of listening to their twisted thoughts, but it would certainly be helpful to know what they were thinking.

"He's been exposed to all your freakish tricks!" Vernon screamed.

"And what do you think about what he's been exposed to at your hands?"

"What do you mean to imply?"

"Do you think that exposing a child, any child, to watching another human being starved, beaten, and raped is acceptable behavior?"

"Considering the circumstances, it was fine," Vernon growled. Severus nodded, still trying to figure out what he wanted to ask. He felt waves of anger wash over him, but he breathed in and out for a minute, and felt it recede. Suddenly, he felt much calmer, saddened, but calmer.

"Why?" he asked quietly, after a moment. He didn't get an answer. "Why did you do it?"

"Look, Snape, we didn't have a choice!" Petunia interrupted. Severus arched his eyebrow higher than he had ever done before.

"And what do you mean by that?" he said, almost laughing. The thought of them not having a choice was ludicrous. Maybe they were more unbalanced than he had previously believed? Petunia and Vernon looked at him curiously. "You don't deny that you staved, beat, and raped him. What do you mean, you didn't have a choice?" Severus' gaze bored into Petunia. "Everyone - always - has a choice." He had rebuilt his life on that principle, and believed it with every fiber of his being. Yes, he had made the wrong choice more times than he could count, but he wasn't about to blame his mistakes on not having a choice. But of course the Dursleys weren't big enough to take responsibility for their own actions. Well, Vernon was certainly big enough...

"You don't know, do you?" she whispered.

"Obviously not, or I wouldn't be asking you," he drawled.

"You won't believe it, unless I show you," she said. "Let me get something, and then I'll be back."

"Alright," Severus agreed. "But I'll know if you leave the house or call anyone, so don't try anything." He had put charms on the house which let him know the activities of the two parties he was interested in. Wordlessly, Petunia rose and left the room. Vernon and Severus refused to look at each other, in the meantime. In a few minutes, Petunia came back with papers in her hands.

"Read those," she said, "and tell us what choice we had." Skeptically, Severus reached out and took the papers she had. They were clearly wizarding parchment, which peaked his interest. He began reading the one on top. Glancing at the signature at the end, Severus knew that it was Dumbledore's writing.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley,

I regret that I left Mr. Potter on your doorstep without any explanation, and it has taken me this long to contact you. There are blood wards around your house which protect him from the Death Eaters, Voldemort's followers, due to his blood relation with you, Petunia. He must stay with you until he is 17, when the wards will fall.

Mr. Potter, in the meantime, has been the instrument of Voldemort's demise. No one knows how an infant could do such a thing, but he must be loyal to the side of the Light. I see only one way to ensure this. You must do your worst to him. You must show him no love what so ever.

He will be receiving a letter for Hogwarts school during the summer of his eleventh birthday. Once he does, and he attends, he will enter a different world, and he will see what love is then. This will ensure his loyalty.

For the greater good,

Albus Dumbledore

Severus couldn't believe what he was reading. But he continued on to the next paper in the stack. A Muggle sheet, written in ball point pen ink.

Dumbledore,

You can imagine our displeasure at finding a crying bundle in the morning. Your apologies are not required.

You have nothing to worry about when it comes to him getting too much love. It wasn't our choice to take the freak in. You forced it upon us. But to "do our worst?" We don't think that that is deserved or appropriate.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley

Finally, the third, and last sheet of paper.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley,

As much as it pains me to say this, you must do your worst to him. I have no ill intent towards the child, but I need to ensure his loyalty. I believe there is a Muggle saying, "Good cop, bad cop?"

This is a strict necessity to defeat Voldemort. Should he, and he will, raise to power again, it is in your best interests to cooperate with me. To ensure that you will, I will monitor your house, and if you are not doing a sufficient job, know that I can see to it your son is taken from you.

I do not want to do any of this. It is simply the surest way to save the wizard and Muggle worlds.

Albus Dumbledore

The rest of the stack was letters from Dumbledore to the Dursleys explaining that they were not doing enough, and re-emphasizing his earlier threat. Severus held the papers tightly, as if to convince himself they were real, and he ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought.

"So this is why?" he finally asked.

"Yes," Petunia said. "We would not have treated him kindly, even without this, and we don't try to pretend we would have. He likely would have gotten his cupboard, chores, and a certain lack of food, through forgetfulness, nothing more. We probably would have struck him. Your Dumbledore knows we are no friends of wizards, and this is exactly why! He threatens our son if we don't 'do our worst.' Tell me, Snape, what would you have chosen?"

"I see your dilemma," Severus said, "but that does not excuse your actions. There were those who could have helped you stand against Dumbledore. There are some things which cannot be justified, no matter what. I am going to bring you to the Ministry of Magic, and they will hold you there until we can bring your trial around." Severus trained his wand on both of them. "Don't even think of resisting." He canceled out the silencing charm. "Call your son, and we'll all go to the Ministry together."

.oO-Oo.

Much as he hated having the three Dursleys have any physical contact with him, it was necessary to apparate them to the Ministry. He was refusing to think of the revelation that Petunia had shown him. He put it in a little box and shoved it away for later. He needed to focus on the problem at hand. After all, Fudge wouldn't take kindly to him, a former Death Eater, (current, by some people's opinion), apparating into the middle of ministry with three Muggles, accusing them of abusing The Boy Who Lived.

After having his wand checked, and stating his business at the Ministry, they were directed to the part of the complex dealing with wizarding social services. Severus absolutely hated dealing with these imbeciles, but it was the only way to do it legally.

The Dursleys had been very silent throughout the proceedings, and even during the wait. Finally, a social worker addressed their case. Severus explained what was going on.

"These are very serious charges," she said slowly. "I trust you know what you are saying?"

"Yes, of course I do," Severus snapped. "Now get on with it."

"Do you know the current whereabouts of Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, he is currently at Hogwarts," Severus responded. Regrettably, that was a fair question, so he answered it fairly. He wasn't about to admit that he was taking care of Harry. The Ministry would likely demand a thorough search of his chambers, and demand to speak to Harry. Harry would never be able to handle their questioning, and the Ministry would not approve of his actions either.

"Mr. Dursley? Mrs. Dursley? Do you have anything to say about these accusations?"

"I refuse to speak without my attorney!" Vernon exclaimed.

"Very well," the social worker said. "We will see to it that you get one. In the meantime, we ask that we hold you for further investigations."

"You can't put us in prison without a trial!"

"And we're not," the woman said patiently. "We will simply give you a room here until we can determine more. Young Mr. Dursley, we'll have to place you in a different institution. Hopefully all this will be settled soon."

.oO-Oo.

With Vernon and Petunia Dursley in Ministry custody, and Dudley placed in an orphanage temporarily, Severus thoughtfully bit his lip as he walked back to his chambers. He was shocked to see that Dumbledore had actually ordered such treatment of Harry. He knew he needed to address this with Dumbledore, and maybe while it was still fresh in his mind, he should. So as he reached out for his chamber doorknob, he changed his mind and continued past to the Headmaster's office.

.oO-Oo.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Albus said. Seeing as he had already been notified about the Dursleys being in Ministry custody, Albus had a pretty good idea who was knocking. And he was proved right, as Severus walked into his office. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Tell me you didn't," Severus said, his voice thick with accusation. "Tell me you were somehow under the Imperius, or someone had used polyjuice potion. Tell me you didn't order Harry's treatment!" Severus grabbed Dumbledore by the front of his robes, and pulled the older man into a standing position.

"I can't tell you that," Dumbledore sighed, working his robes out of Severus' death grip. "I don't expect you to understand. You live in a world of black and white. You see the individuals. You just aren't equipped to see the cause." Severus snorted at him.

"I believe the cause is made up of individuals," he sneered.

"Yes, yes," Albus said, "but just listen for a moment. The cause being made up of individuals is the exact reason why this must happen." Severus opened his mouth to argue, but Albus spoke over him. "I must secure Harry's loyalties. If things had gone according to plan," his voice held a certain note of accusation, "those loyalties would have been to me. Harry would have been loyal to me no matter what he may have been told about me, even by me. Due to you and Minerva, that has changed slightly. I'm not blind. I can see that his loyalties are to you, now.

"But I needed Harry's loyalties so that Voldemort will be defeated. What is the suffering of one compared with the suffering of the world?"

"His suffering is his world," Severus growled back. "Why would you think that Harry would join any other side? It's not exactly as if the Dark Lord has done anything to make Harry want to join him. Like not killing his parents, or something."

"Even if some of your Death Eaters are short-sighted enough to despise Harry, Voldemort won't be!" Albus said. "If Voldemort ever finds out the truth about Harry, he will do everything in his power to lure him into being his follower."

"They're not my Death Eaters," Severus said through clenched teeth. "What truth about Harry?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Albus admitted, with a shrug. "Suffice to say, that I have my theories."

"You know more than you let on, old man," Severus said.

"That is an accusation I can't respond to," Albus said. "If I say yes, then I am letting on. If I say no, then I could be equally not letting on."

"I don't expect you to respond," Severus said, and stalked out of the room.

Ah, the whole conversation had gone better than Albus had envisioned. But he knew he hadn't changed Severus' mind. Severus still saw the good of the individual as higher than the good of the masses. Neither one of them really understood the other. Severus couldn't see how Dumbledore's actions were justified, and Albus couldn't see how he could justify anything else.

In Albus' mind, he had two options. He could ensure Harry's loyalties lie with the light, even at the cost of Harry's security, and defeat Voldemort, or he could have seen to Harry's care, and played a huge gamble that Harry would go dark.

Of course, Severus had no suspicion about what Harry really was, and Albus cursed himself for even giving Severus an idea that there was something about Harry that he didn't know. Albus was certain that over time, and as Voldemort grew stronger, unless Harry was firstly, kept physically separated from him, and secondly, had extremely strong loyalties to the Light, Harry's will could be manipulated even.

Albus looked at his desk and sighed. What other choice could he have made?


	16. The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Severus opened the door to his chambers wearily, and sat down on the couch. The visit to the Dursleys, handing them over to the Ministry, and then confronting Dumbledore had taken more out of him than he expected.

He felt like crying himself. And it was a cold day in hell when Severus Snape felt like crying. If he thought that Dumbledore's apathy was the worst thing his old mentor could have done, he was wrong. He felt personally betrayed by the contents of the Dursley's letters. Not only because the Headmaster had ordered the abuse of a child, and followed through on it, but he had done it to Lily's child.

The night that he had left the Dark Lord's ranks, even if not officially, he had taken an oath to protect Lily's child. He had trusted Dumbledore to see to Harry's well-being for the intermediate ten years, and now he saw how wrong he had been. He felt personally betrayed, because of his misplaced trust. Dumbledore had made an mockery of his oath, by sentencing Harry to such treatment for ten years. For sentencing Harry to such treatment at all. Obviously the man had no respect for the living or the dead. Severus' oath, Lily's memory, and Lily's child were all defamed by his actions. Even James, with all the insults Severus, whether truthfully or untruthfully, could throw at him, would never have stood for anyone being treated that way, and Severus knew James would have died rather than have his son treated like that. James had died to protect his son. Faults the man had aplenty, but when push came to shove, when everyone had to chose a side, James did the right thing.

"Hi," a small voice said behind him, tentatively.

"Hello, Harry," Severus said. "Come over here." Severus patted the cushion next to him. Harry did so, nervously, sitting on the edge of the seat, turned so that he could see Severus. Harry began quivering slightly as Severus looked at him.

"Please don't send me back," Harry whispered. "I can't go back." Severus sighed, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Why ever would I send you back?" he said. "Haven't I promised you that I will never do that?"

"Yes, but - " Harry began quickly, and then stopped.

"But you don't believe I'll keep my word," Severus finished for him. "I don't expect you to, either. But please, try. I promise I will never send you back. That isn't what this conversation is about."

"So...you don't believe Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"Believe him?"

"That - that I'm a burden, and a freak, and - and - " Harry's voice broke, and he bit his lower lip.

"How can I, when I can see you're not?" Severus asked. "Your relatives are currently in custody of the Ministry, awaiting further developments in their case. They will go to trial, and face a punishment for their actions against you." Harry shook his head.

"But I don't want to hurt them too," Harry said.

"Remember what I told you," Severus argued. "This is for the protection of others." And Harry nodded. "Can you get your text books?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, getting up, and picking out his Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology text books. He laid them out on the table for Severus.

"Alright, let's start with Transfiguration," he said, picking up the book. "You're learning how to transfigure a pine needle into a sewing needle. Do you remember the theory you read about yesterday?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Severus then transfigured the spoon laying on the table into a pine needle. It would work the same for all intents and purposes as a real pine needle.

"Go get your wand," Severus prompted, and in a minute Harry was back with his wand. "Pinus setam!" Severus said, with a flick of his wand, and the pine needle turned into a sewing needle. "See?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Severus turned the needle back to the pine needle.

"Now you try," he prompted.

"P-pinus," Harry began, "setam." He looked at Severus and flicked his wand hesitatingly. Nothing happened to the needle, and Harry winced. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine, Harry," Severus said. "You're doing fine. Just try to be a little more confident. Pinus setam!" Severus cast the spell again, showing the fluidity of the words and the movement. Then he turned it back. "Try again."

"Pinus setam," Harry said, waving his wand, doing his best to imitate Severus. Still, nothing happened. Harry swallowed nervously and searched Severus' face for any sign of anger.

"Try to reach into yourself and feel your magic," Severus said. "When you feel it, then cast the spell. Your magic will flow out your wand." Harry nodded. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in, holding it. After a minute, he let it out.

"Is something wrong?" Severus asked.

"I can't feel anything," Harry responded, not opening his eyes. Severus frowned in concern. The boy definitely had magic. There were enough displays of accidental magic, powerful accidental magic, that Severus knew Harry was not somehow a squib.

"Pinus setam!" brought Severus out of his musings. Harry practically shouted the incantation, desperation written on his face, as he pointed his wand at the pine needle. And still nothing happened.

"Harry," Severus said. "May I enter your mind? I want to see if there's anything wrong with your magic," he explained.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Severus suspected, and he was correct, that Harry allowed this because he was not equipped to deny anyone anything. Quietly, Severus entered Harry's mind, ignoring the emotions and the memories, and searching only for Harry's magic. He wasn't finding any, and this concerned him greatly. More than he would like to admit.

He searched and searched, and finally, he found a trace. Severus began following the tiny tendril of magic until he came to its source. Hidden away in the farthest part of Harry's soul, buried and forgotten, was Harry's magic, shrunk to its smallest size. Inaccessible in its current state. Seeing what he needed to see, Severus retreated from Harry's mind.

"Harry," Severus said, recovering himself. "Your magic is buried and shrunk. Do you know how that happened?"

"I tried to get rid of my freakishness, sir," Harry mumbled.

"Yes, that's probably it," Severus agreed. He had come up with that theory already, but he wanted to hear it from Harry. "You can't use your magic in its current state," he continued. "You'll have to work at bringing it to the forefront of your mind and making it grow."

"So - I can't do spells?" Harry asked, cringing at his own question.

"Regrettably," Severus said. "But it shouldn't be permanent. You'll just have to do some meditation to find your magic again." Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Can I still do potions and herbology?"

"Of course," Severus said. "Neither of those require actual magic from you." Severus picked up the potions book, and handed it to Harry. "Would you care to begin here?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, smiling a bit.

"Open to page three-hundred and ninety-four."

And so, Severus Snape, lonely dungeon bat whose goal was to make the first years cry, began to tutor Harry Potter, the son of his childhood nemesis. After covering the theory in the potions book, Severus and Harry moved down to the potions lab. Perhaps Severus couldn't provide a thorough education in all the subjects, like herbology, that required access to rare plants which he didn't have, but he would certainly make sure that Harry understood potions. That was something he could handle. He hoped Harry had Lily's gift for potions, and combined with his tutelage, Harry would undoubtedly be brilliant at it.

"We're going to brew a cure for boils, now, Harry," Severus said. "Read over the instructions, thoroughly and completely, to the end, and explain to me everything you do."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. He carefully read over the recipe, and then pointed at the first sentence. "It says to get a pewter cauldron." He looked up at Severus expectantly.

"They're right over there," Severus said, pointing to a nearby shelf, filled with every style of cauldron imaginable. "Pick out a pewter one."

"Umm..." Harry said when he walked over to them. "I know it's not this one," he mumbled, moving a gold cauldron aside.

"Keep working at it," Severus encouraged, picking the gold one out of Harry's way. He wanted Harry to think on his own, and by process of elimination, Harry would be able to either solve the puzzle or come close. Harry continued to move cauldrons aside which he knew were wrong. Finally, he had narrowed it down to just the pewter, lead, and iron cauldrons.

"I don't know which one," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

"You did a good job narrowing it down," Severus complimented him. "But this one is the one you want. See, it's lighter than the lead or the iron ones. That's how you can tell. It's also more flexible." Setting it on the table, Harry looked at the next step, and began putting the ingredients together, heating and stirring them, as Severus gave instructions and small corrections. By the end of the process, Harry had a near perfect remedy for boils.

"Now put a sample in a jar for me to grade," Severus instructed, and Harry hurried to comply. "Now, over the next week, write an essay about the twelves uses for dragon blood."

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, grinning at the thought of having homework like any normal child.

.oO-Oo.

He had been so disappointed when he couldn't transfigure the pine needle. He couldn't be normal at anything, even being a wizard. Of course, Harry hid his disappointment in himself. He didn't want Professor Snape to be disappointed in him either, and the better act he could put up, the better chance he had of not disappointing him.

Then his thoughts flew to the shattered picture. Well, the Professor definitely would be disappointed in him then. Angry too. And he'd hate him. Heck, Harry hated himself, but that was nothing new. But then Professor Snape suggested they start on potions. Harry was intrigued by potions, mostly because he knew it was the Professor's subject, and he wanted to impress his new caretaker. At the same time, he was wary of it, because he was sure he'd be a disappointment.

Professor Snape began explaining the theories behind potion making, and then brought him down to his private lab to brew the boil potion cure. Finally, he had finished. Honestly, following the instructions was not all that different from cooking. Sure, he'd never been able to read a recipe before, but he knew a thing or two about cooking in general. And potions mirrored it a bit.

And then he got homework! He knew Dudley got homework from his school, and he also knew kids were supposed to complain about it and hate homework. But really, for him, it was just a sign that perhaps, maybe, he could be normal.

"Did I get the potion right, Professor?" Harry asked after a minute. He desperately wanted to please his professor. There wasn't much hope, he knew, but maybe if he did good enough at his potions, Professor Snape might still keep him, if he ever found out about the picture. Of course, Harry was determined to do everything in his power to keep Professor Snape from finding out. But he already knew that his life had a habit of being an open book. And he knew that his professor was relentless in knowing everything he could. Heck, Professor Snape knew almost everything about what had been done to him! He knew what a wretched freak he was, and the Professor still kept him around. Professor Snape still hugged him, and fed him and cared for him. Despite everything.

Harry had never been unconditionally accepted before. Shoot, Harry had never been accepted before! He wasn't sure how far he could push Professor Snape before he was rejected. Everyone had their limits. It was just that he hadn't found the Professor's yet. And he didn't want to either. In fact, that was probably he greatest fear right now. Greater than the fear of being beaten or starved was the fear of being rejected. He simply wouldn't be able to face it. Every so often, Harry tried to imagine how rejection would feel. And every time he tried, he found that it left him suffocating.

He had never been dependent on anything before. Well, no more dependent than any other living organism was on food. But he had always looked after himself, detached from everyone. The only time he tried attaching himself was with his mouse, and he learned his lesson the hard way then. He knew he was setting himself up for disaster, caring for someone, but his idiotic heart just wouldn't listen. He craved the care his professor gave him, and he equally craved to care for his professor. He hoped and prayed that everything went alright for him and Professor Snape. If it didn't, Harry knew he would die of a broken heart.

Was that even possible? He knew the phrase, but he knew that sometimes things were less than literal. Or was it more? Throwing that thought aside, he went back to the first question. Harry knew that there had been a dull ache in his chest the day his mouse died, before he steeled his heart off. But was it possible to die of a broken one? He supposed not, because he couldn't see how losing something would break your heart, literally. But he could see someone losing their will to live, and dying by other means.

"Yes, Harry," Professor Snape replied, bringing out of his morbid thoughts and back to reality. "You did a fine job on your potion." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had succeeded. His professor had told him he did well, and this was his own specialty, so Harry was sure he was being held to high standards.

And Harry was right. Professor Snape was holding him to high standards in potions. But with the excellent student ratio he currently had, Harry was doomed to succeed. Anyone who was willing to put half an effort towards potions couldn't fail at it when they had an experienced potions master for a professor.

.oO-Oo.

Severus had sent Harry to get ready for bed. After a shower, Harry had quietly gone to his room, and presumably was changing. Severus was not going to intrude on the boy's privacy, but he did want to put him to bed personally. Harry had never had anyone who cared if he was in bed or not, and was sure it was the right thing to do. After all, he remembered his mother tucking him in as a child, and how much he appreciated that, especially after his father had beaten him. It meant that there was at least one person on the face of the earth who loved him. Even if his mother hadn't loved him enough to take him out of the situation, he hadn't seen it that way at the time, and the good-nights from her had been his only lifeline to sanity during those days. Yes, he was in retrospect angry with his mother over it, but there wasn't much purpose in being angry with the dead, and he knew that.

If only he had seen it sooner with James Potter! Potter was just as dead as his mother, and he was just as angry with him as he was with her. As he thought it over, looking at the fire and waiting for Harry, he figured the only explanation was that he had loved his mother at one point, before he realized what she had done. Or really, failed to do. And because his anger at his mother was tempered by his love as well, his anger was a colder one. It was more intellectualized. With Potter, his anger was still smoldering. Anger at an emotional level.

His temper was something he had definitely inherited from his father. Why couldn't he control it better? He was always making cruel and sarcastic remarks to everyone, and honestly, he enjoyed it. Without his sarcastic comments, he would lose his comfort zone with interacting with people. It wasn't that he didn't like people, (alright, he really didn't like some people,) but even with the people he liked, his attitude was his shield, protecting him from getting attached to anyone, and anyone getting attached to him. He was a spy, after all, and a spy couldn't afford - liabilities.

And Harry had become his Achilles heel. Would he be strong enough to avoid manipulation through Harry? He hoped so, but he highly doubted it. His one weakness was those the loved. He didn't love many, but when he did, he was an eternal friend.

Well, it was about time for Harry to be finished getting ready for bed. He hadn't come out to say good night, which disappointed Severus. Of course, he wasn't going to say anything about it. Harry likely just didn't want to pester him, or some such nonsense. Well, he was going to pester Harry with a good night. Severus knocked quietly. Harry's small voice, resounding from behind the closed door, told him to come in.

"Hello, Harry," Severus said, closing the door soundlessly behind him. "Everything alright?" He noticed Harry standing next to his bed nervously. Undoubtedly, Harry was trying to show some sign of respect and dignity, even though he stood before him in his bare feet and fuzzy blue pajamas.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Everything's fine." Well, of course Harry would say everything was fine. Compared to the condition of his past ten years, everything would always be fine.

"I just came to say good night," Severus continued. "So hop into bed, you little monkey." Harry scrambled into bed, and sat on his heels, keeping Severus in his view. Severus sat down next to him, and his eyes wandered to the nightstand.

"Where is the picture of your mother?" he asked, curious. It was odd, he thought, that Harry wouldn't have it set up next to his bed.

"Oh - um -," Harry began, "Well, you see, I put it away so nothing would happen to it." Harry tried to give him an encouraging smile. It screamed, "Believe me!" and Severus gave Harry a skeptical look.

"Are you sure that's what happened?" he asked.

"Yes, sir!" he said. "I just didn't want anything to happen to it."

"Alright," Severus said, still very skeptical. He took Harry by the shoulders, and laid him back into his pillow. Standing up, he pulled the covers over Harry's form, tucking the corners around his thin shoulders.

"Would you like to hear a story?" Severus offered. Harry just blinked at the suggestion. Severus snorted at Harry's reaction. "Alright, I'll tell you a Muggle story, since you probably don't know many of them either.

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy who watched over the sheep in his town. It was a good job, but he got bored with it. After all, it was just watching a bunch of sheep. Nothing ever happened, day after day. So finally, this little boy decided he would make something happen. He began to call, 'Wolf! Wolf!' and the men of the town came running with pitchforks and other farm equipment. 'Where is the wolf?' they asked, and the boy began to laugh at them, saying that there was no wolf. The men were angry that they had been called away from what they were doing, for a false alarm. The next day, the boy did the same thing, and the men came running, this time, even angrier than the previous day. Finally, a third time, the boy called, 'Wolf! Wolf!' and no one came. The men of the town decided that they wouldn't be called again for a false alarm. But this time, when the boy called, he really had seen a wolf. He kept calling, and the men didn't respond. The wolf attacked the flock, killing and scattering the sheep. No one believed the boy that he had really seen a wolf, until they saw the dead sheep. And so the boy learned that he should only cry wolf when there really was a wolf."

Severus was moved to a certain amount of emotion as he saw this scene play out in his mind's eye. He knew Harry was keeping something from him, but he also knew that he wasn't going to push Harry about it. It was almost comical, him telling a bedtime story, but the story wasn't without a purpose. He hoped Harry would be able to use the story to his benefit. Of course, to Harry, this story would undoubtedly seem harsh. He leaned over, and placed a quick chaste kiss on Harry's forehead.

"You know, Harry," he said in Harry's ear, trying to soften the story a bit in its application, "I love you no matter what. No matter what happens, or what you do, I will always love you. You don't have to be afraid of telling me anything, ever." Severus pulled back and smiled at Harry. "Good night, child." Patting Harry's head for a moment, he turned and walked over to the door.

"Good night, Professor," Severus heard as he opened the door, and he smiled softly to himself.

.oO-Oo.

Professor Snape knew. It was obvious from what he said there at the end that the Professor knew something had happened to the picture, and it wasn't what he had said. Could he actually believe the assurances of love?

Harry lay awake in bed, tossing and turning, his mind being tortured over the lie he had told his new caretaker. He couldn't afford to lose the Professor, that much was certain. But the guilt of having lied to the one person who seemed to care for him was pressing on his chest like a lead weight. Professor Snape fed him, loved him, cared for him, taught him, and he had lied to the man. Harry let out a choked sob. He didn't know what to do about it.

Harry wasn't stupid, and he knew the story Professor Snape had told him was meant to encourage him to tell the truth. He knew he should undo the lie he had told. But if he admitted that he had told a lie, it would just make Professor Snape upset with him. Then again, the lie was told, and admitting the truth was the only way to get out of it, no matter what the consequences were.

Swinging his legs out of bed, Harry stood up on the cold floor and made his way to the bedroom door.

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat in front of the fire, cradling a cup of chamomile tea, heavy on sugar and milk, wondering how long it would take Harry to come to him about what had really happened to the picture. He wasn't angry with Harry at all, just disappointed. And even then, his disappointment didn't run deep. He remembered being a little boy, scared of the consequences of his actions, and lying to get out of it. He just needed to illustrate to Harry that lying was not the right answer.

Of course Harry would lie to him if he thought he did something wrong. From Harry's perspective, messing up once was justification for horrible punishments, and probably Harry feared that he wouldn't be loved anymore.

A soft patter of feet brought him out of his reverie, and Severus looked over his shoulder, where Harry stood, wringing his hands, looking very uncomfortable.

"Yes, Harry?" Severus prompted.

"I - There's something I need to tell you," he said.

"I thought there might be," Severus said. "Come over here." Harry edged his way over to Severus, and hesitantly sat down next to Severus. "Here," Severus said, handing him the still untouched tea. "This will be good for you." Harry wordlessly accepted the hot porcelain, but not drinking. "So what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Well," Harry began, and then sucked in his breath, stringing his next words together without pause or breakage. "I broke the picture this morning and I put it under the bed because I was afraid you'd be angry for breaking it, and I'm really sorry, and can you still love me?"

"Of course, Harry," Severus said, putting his arm around Harry. "I will always love you. Just make sure you don't lie to me next time. I think you've learned your lesson?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Good," Severus said. "Then I'll let you off this time. You've suffered enough for this mistake without anything else. Let's see that mess you put under your bed." Harry set the still untouched tea on the table, and they went back into his bedroom. Harry held the covers of the bed up a bit as Severus got down on the floor, putting this biggest shards of glass and the photograph from under the bed. Severus slipped his wand from his sleeve.

"Reparo," he muttered, and the frame rebuilt itself around the photograph. Harry audibly sucked in his breath. "Here you go," Severus said, handing Harry the picture. "Just be careful with it, and if something happens again, let me know, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, setting the picture up on his nightstand again, but this time, slightly further away from his bed.

"Good night," Severus said. "Sleep well."

.oO-Oo.

Harry felt so much better then, having told the truth. He was still scared about further consequences for lying in the morning, but he could at least sleep with a clear conscience. Whenever he told a lie to Uncle Vernon, he always made sure it was water-tight and he could get away with it. On the rare occasions that his lies fell apart, there was always hell to pay for them.

Harry had worked all day in Aunt Petunia's flower gardens. Her favorite flowers, aside from petunias, were definitely her roses. She had Harry spread special things around her roses to help them grow. Harry had tasted it one day, and it was terrible, so he decided he was never going to try eating rose food again. But there were daffodils, tulips, gladiolas, iris, bleeding hearts, and snap dragons he had to care for as well. So, during the summer, he spent a good share of his days working in the garden, weeding, turning the soil, transplanting, watering, and feeding the various plants. Honestly, it wasn't one of the jobs he hated. He liked working with the plants. They never yelled at him or hit him. And they were beautiful.

But one day, when he was working in the garden, Dudley and his gang decided that they were going to play "Harry hunting" again. So they came over and announced their game to him. After all, he did need a chance to run, or the game wouldn't be fun at all.

"I'm working, Dudley," Harry responded. Dudley picked up a stick and began prodding Harry in his side as he placed a daffodil into the soil. "Leave me alone!"

"Run, Harry, run!" Dudley shrieked.

"No!" Harry screamed back, grabbing the stick away. "Leave me alone! I'm planting your mom's garden! Go away!" Well, Dudley wasn't going to get told off like that, especially not by a little freak like his cousin. So Dudley pushed Harry down into the dirt, messing his already filthy clothes more, and breaking the stems of a dozen daffodils. Harry gasped, horrified, as he looked at the destroyed flowers. What would his aunt do now?

"Told you to run," Dudley hissed into Harry's ear, before leaving. Harry set about trying to fix the flowers, but like any gardener knows, and even Harry knew it, he couldn't fix them. But he just had to try, and so for an hour, he kept trying. But blood, sweat, and tears, all of which were being put into this project, just wasn't enough to repair the flowers. Finally, it started getting dark, and Harry packed up the gardening equipment in the twilight.

After taking his shoes off, he went in the house, and opened the door to his cupboard. He hoped somehow his aunt wouldn't find out about the flowers, otherwise, he knew he was in deep trouble.

"Did you finish with the garden?" Aunt Petunia called out, before he closed the cupboard door behind him.

"Yes, Aunt Pentuia!" Harry replied, keeping the door open long enough to answer.

"We're going to go check," she said, coming around the corner. "Let's go, freak." Harry left the safety of his cupboard, a knot of anxiety building in his stomach. Together, they walked out to the garden.

"My flowers!" she gasped when she saw the prominently broken daffodils. "What did you do?" she growled, towering over Harry, who cowed before her, trying to make himself small.

"Well, there was this bunch of rabbits, and they started breaking them, and I scared them off before they could eat any more!" Harry explained. Aunt Petunia calmed down, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as she believed his lie.

"At least they didn't get more," she said.

"Mom! Mom!" Dudley called from the house.

"Out here, Duddikins," Aunt Petunia called, as Harry hid his grimace at the ridiculous pet name.

"I want another slice of -," Dudley began as he stepped outside, "Oh, you've seen what the freak did?"

"What?" Aunt Petunia said, glaring at Harry again, who resumed his cowed stance. She reached out and grabbed him by the front of his hoodie. "What did you do?"

"He was attacking me this afternoon, and so I had to push back to defend myself, you know, and he fell back into the flowers," Dudley said, with a cruel smirk at Harry, who looked like he was about to cry.

"That's not what happened!" Harry blurted. "They wanted to play 'Harry hunting' and I wouldn't because I needed to plant the flowers, and they pushed me into them!"

"Much like the rabbit story," his aunt drawled, looking at her hand suddenly like it were infected. After all, she'd touched the freak's clothes. "Inside!" she hissed.

Uncle Vernon was home, and so he went straight to him, with the story of the daffodils and Dudley's expert witness. Harry felt himself shaking all over, terrified of what would happen to him, now not only for destroying the flowers but for lying.

"So let me get this straight," Uncle Vernon said, very calmly, ("Never a good sign," Harry thought.), "Harry destroyed the garden, and then lied about it, and then called you a liar, Dudley?"

"Yes, Dad," Dudley said, sniffing a bit, all for the effect though, because, discretely, Dudley threw Harry another smirk.

"You will not get any food for a week, boy," Uncle Vernon growled, as he stood up, looking down at Harry. "One glass of water a day. Now," he said, unbuckling his belt, "take that filthy thing off and grab your ankles." Harry complied, trying desperately to keep the tears in his eyes. He bent over and grabbed his ankles tightly, bracing for the first blow. The belt whistled through the air and landed on his bare back. Despite his best attempts, he let out a small yelp of pain.

"Shut up, freak, or you'll get more," his uncle warned. Harry nodded, as he bit his lip. A second time, the belt whistled and landed. Harry blinked as tears welled up against his well and fell on the floor, but he didn't cry out. Again and again, the belt whistled and fell, and Harry lost count. It was easier to not scream if he took it one lash at a time. Finally, his uncle grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him head first into the cupboard, where he fell against the shelf of cleaning supplies. Powdered sink cleaner fell on his back, and he screamed in agony as it stung his open wounds. Thankfully, his uncle didn't unlock the cupboard to address the scream.

Harry hoped against hope that there wouldn't be any punishment in the morning. He hoped he hadn't pushed Professor Snape too far. And with those thoughts, he fell asleep.


	17. How To Write an Essay

"Um...hello, Professor," Harry muttered. Professor Snape had just walked in, and Harry was standing nervously, having waited for him, parchment and quill in hand.

"Is that the essay I assigned?" Professor Snape asked, his eyes wandering over the back of the paper.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded. "I mean, no, sir. I mean, I wasn't able to do it, sir, because I don't know what to do, and I'm sorry," he said, running his words together. "Sir," he added, just to be safe. Generally the more "sir"s he added to the sentence, the safer he felt about whatever he was trying to say. It would show that he really did mean to be respectful, even if he might be failing miserably.

"That's alright, Harry," Professor Snape said, drawing in a long breath. Harry braced himself for anything, because anyone sucking in their breath was a bad sign for him. Professor Snape's voice was quite calm and even though, and he was giving no sign of being impatient in any other way. "Just come over to my desk, and we'll work on it."

He turned his back on Harry, and sat down at his desk, transfiguring a nearby pillow into a chair for Harry. Harry sat down, placing his parchment and quill on the desk, watching the Professor's hands carefully.

"I'm very glad that you came to be about it, if you're having difficulty," Professor Snape said, thankfully holding his hands in a place where Harry could readily see them. "It's perfectly alright to not be able to do it yet. I have to bleed all over most of the first years' essays."

"Bleed, sir?" Harry squeaked. Oh, gosh, he didn't want to make him bleed! Harry began to quiver in anticipation.

"Not literal," Professor Snape drawled slightly. "Red ink. Corrections. All over the page, with grammar, spelling, punctuation, and content mistakes."

"Yes, sir," Harry asserted quickly.

"Alright, so let's begin. An essay should have an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. In your introduction, you should first tell me what the essay will be about, but try to do it in a clever or interesting way. Be a bit subtle about it. That will be your thesis statement. If, when you've finished the essay, you can't pick out your thesis statement, it's time to rewrite the introduction. Also, in the introduction, you should tell me what your main points are going to be. Just give them one line names, and tell me what they are, and in what order you're going to write about them.

"Then, in the body, you will use the list you made in the introduction to write about those points. You'll take each one, and expand on it, explaining it in more detail. Each new point will be a new paragraph, and sometimes, one point will take more than one paragraph. Simply state a new one when you will be talking about something slightly different.

"And then for the conclusion. You can do a number of things with this. But you will bring all your points together. You can make a general appeal to persuasion if you are writing a paper to change someone's mind, or you can impress upon your reader the importance of your topic. In an essay, I would recommend explaining the relevance of the given topic to your schooling, and to your life. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Now into specifics..."

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat with a mug of tea cooling at his elbow as he graded essays from the third years. Carefully, he had sent Harry to play with Nitty while he worked. Harry had seemed to take it well, but then, Severus wasn't sure if that was anything to go by. He loved Harry a great deal, more than he had loved anyone, except Lily. But he still needed time alone to work on his grading. He had never learned to do it when there was any noise around, and he hoped Harry hadn't taken the suggestion to play with Nitty elsewhere wrongly. It would be just like Harry to think he was being rejected for who knows what, and not even say anything.

Severus refocused himself on his essays and began again, rereading the horrendous paragraph from a particular Hufflepuff girl. Someone really needed to teach these children to write! Hogwarts clearly needed an English class. Primary school just wasn't teaching them like they used to, and these children had no idea how to write an essay. Just like Harry, except that they were faking their way through. Blast it all, a person would think that he was the only teacher who knew how to write an essay properly. So he continued to make notes in the margins about proper essay structure.

And so the long school year began for Severus. It wasn't that he didn't like teaching. He did, it was just that dealing with children was generally not his specialty, and non-cooperative ones at that. His patience was short and his tongue was sharp, if he wasn't consciously watching it. But such was his life, and, he figured, it could be a whole lot worse. At least Dumbledore had offered him a way to redeem himself.

Dumbledore. The old fool puzzled him. It was true, he, Severus, did tend to see the world in black and white. But did Dumbledore really feel that anything was justified if you could just point to a good cause? That was very slippery philosophy right there. Who would determine if the cause was good or not? There would be plenty of people who would maintain that Dumbledore's causes weren't really good. Even if they were Death Eaters, so what? They would still maintain that Dumbledore was wrong, and they were right. Which would, if the greater good was the guiding philosophy, justify every action a Death Eater ever took. It would justify the Dark Lord's existence. Because he would say that everything he had done was for the greater good. Just as Dumbeldore had done.

Could, perhaps, the two of them, Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, have more in common than either was willing to admit? They were both power-hungry control freaks, Severus was learning. And both were willing to do anything to gain their own ends. There was nothing as dangerous as an opponent who would stop at nothing.

Perhaps, Severus thought, it would work out for the best in the end that Dumbledore led the light. Not that he approved at all of anything the man had done, but rather, if there was someone unscrupulous enough to do anything, against a man who would do anything, then perhaps, just maybe, they did have a shot at winning.

He still hated the man for doing what he had done to Harry. It didn't change anything. But the thought of good coming from it made the situation easier to bear in the meantime.

.oO-Oo.

And the week of school continued. Friday came, and Severus covered Potions and Herbology again with Harry. Harry loved those classes, since he was succeeding in them. The boy soaked up knowledge like a sponge and was very anxious to prove himself, due, in no small part, Severus was sure, in fear that a lack of performance would result in some punishment from the depths of hell.

Severus wasn't stupid, and he knew the Harry didn't fully trust him. It didn't take a genius to notice the little gasps, or flinches, or the way Harry's eyes would dart around the room and then rest on his hands. Well, maybe it did, actually, since it was his job to watch out for those little things as a spy. Perhaps the average person wouldn't notice them. But he had to. More than once his life had been saved by some little indicator like that.

He was willing to settle for the fact that Harry didn't trust him completely yet. He hoped that one day he could gain Harry's trust, more so for Harry's sake than for his own. Why should he care, personally, if Harry trusted him? It wasn't going to hurt him if the boy didn't! Or so he told himself. What was most important was that Harry could learn to trust. If he learned it with Draco, or one of the other students, Severus told himself that that would be good enough. Secretly, in the very back of his head, Severus knew he wanted that trust. He simply wouldn't admit it.

.oO-Oo.

After supper on Friday, Professor Snape called Harry over to sit with him in front of the fire, and Harry knew that his professor was planning something.

"I want to start working on getting your magic working again," the Professor said. "It may take a long time, but it should be possible. You will have to do everything I tell you, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, nodding vigorously, unknowingly reminding his Professor of a house elf.

"Alright, close your eyes." Harry looked at him warily for a moment, apparently judging if it was safer to obediently close his eyes, or keep them open to watch for anything dangerous. But keeping them open might well cause something dangerous to happen. After all, he had just promised to do everything Professor Snape said. Knowing that it was only instinct for Harry to want to see everything, Professor Snape allowed him that moment of hesitation without comment. After that, he closed them, slowly, concentrating on sounds instead.

"Now breathe, Harry," Severus said, his voice low, calm, and almost melodious. Harry could get lost listening to it. He was already well on his way to the altered mental state of meditation. "Slowly and carefully. Just focus on your breath, moving in and out of your lungs. Notice the coolness of the air coming in, and the warmness coming out." Professor Snape's voice began to be just a hum in the background, and Harry wasn't even thinking about the words anymore. It felt like he was ready to go to sleep.

"Now I want you to search your mind, and find some little tendril of magic, and follow it to its source," Professor Snape's voice suddenly cut in, and out of reflex, Harry jumped and began searching for that tendril before he could even object. It was just instinct to do what he was told without question. And although he didn't know it, Professor Snape had calculated for that and was trying to use it to his advantage.

Since Harry knew his own mind rather well, it didn't take him long at all to find that bit of magic and follow it. He had always, throughout the years, ignored whatever urge he felt to do this thing called "accidental magic." Now he was seeking out the source of it. Life had a sense of humor, apparently, and it wasn't funny.

"I have it, sir," Harry finally said.

"Imagine yourself poking it now," Professor Snape continued. "Imagine yourself making it bigger, prodding it, doing anything to make it larger. Pull on it. Anything."

Putting on a face of concentration, Harry did as instructed. After several minutes, he began to look tired, as his focus began to slip away.

"That's enough for tonight," Professor Snape cut in. "You may open your eyes now."

And Harry did.

"Now, before you go to bed, I'm going to give you a massage. Your muscles are sorely lacking, and now with some proper nutrition for a little while, you would do well with one." Professor Snape smirked at him slightly, and Harry felt like he must be a very interesting bug for a moment. "Especially if my plans for tomorrow work out."

"What plans, sir?" Harry blurted before he thought. Quickly, he covered his mouth with his hand, a horrified look in his eyes. Then, taking his hand away, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't want to know, really." His professor just gave him a stronger You're-a-very-interesting-bug look.

"It is perfectly fine that you ask, Harry," he finally said. "But it will be a surprise. Now, get ready for bed, and then I'll give you that massage."

.oO-Oo.

Harry couldn't believe how good he felt. His professor's hands were moving skillfully over his shoulders, relaxing the tight muscles in his neck, even realigning his spine. The oil that was being rubbed in smelled heavenly too. Between this, and the meditation, Harry was finding himself very sleepy. Not anxious about going to sleep either. Usually he approached the idea of sleep with a combination of dread and delight, because in his dreams, he either found a formerly much needed escape, or a recreation of hell.

But this time, he just felt like he wanted to sleep, without any feelings about it. He could feel himself drifting off every so often, only to be brought back to consciousness by the strong hands pressing against the base of his skull. Finally, not even that could keep him awake, and he drifted off into a peaceful dreamless sleep, free of any potions or drugs.

.oO-Oo.

Severus wiped his hands of the oil on them, and went to be himself. It had been a long week for him, and he doubted the rest of the year would be any better. He collapsed into bed, forgetting to change his robes again. When he realized this, he simply rolled over, being too exhausted to care, although he knew he really should see to his personal hygiene a bit better.

Severus found himself in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. He hadn't been in there since his own school days, but here he was again, and there was nothing but an empty room, secured, it seemed, from the inside so no one could get in. But suddenly, two figures appeared before him.

"Lily?" he gasped. "And Potter?" If his chin could have hit the floor, it probably would have.

"Hello, Severus," Lily replied. "Your stupid Occlemency shields haven't let us in until now. You finally forgot to close off your mind before going to sleep." Severus gave her a look of disbelief.

"And?" he said. "What do you and Potter want?"

"I thought you'd be a bit more pleased to see Lily than that," James interjected. "I see you haven't dulled your tongue at all in the past 10 years."

"My apologies," Severus muttered to Lily, ignoring James. "Is there something specific you wanted?" Severus placed his hands behind his back, and stood at attention, meeting Lily's gaze.

"I've been trying to get into your head for the past month!" she almost laughed. "Of course there's something specific! I wanted to ask you to keep Harry safe."

"Yes, Severus," James said. "As do I. Perhaps you were not my first choice in guardian for him, but it seems like you are the logical choice now."

"I will do everything in my power to keep him safe," Severus said. "I give you my word."

"Will you keep him from Dumbledore too?" James asked.

"Especially from Dumbledore," Severus snorted in response.

"Just keep my little boy safe from anyone who would hurt him," Lily pleaded. "It all falls to you."

"You don't think I know that?" Severus sneered. "The reality of that little fact has already made itself clear to me."

"I'm sure," James returned.

"You will do fine, Severus," Lily said, leaving James' side, and putting her hand on his cheek. Severus felt his breath catch at the touch, as he felt his gaze lock onto Lily's. "You just need to get custody of him. Somehow," she whispered.

"How can I?" Severus whispered back. "I need to stay on at least speaking terms with Dumbledore, or I have lost my freedom. My rash actions as a youth still haunt me. The Ministry would never let me, former Death Eater, have custody of the Boy Who Lived. Only if someone pulled strings..."

"Lucius Malfoy," James called. "He told you he'd pull strings for you. At least use the connections you've made."

"I will," Severus growled at James, still not looking at him. "I need to judge just what the repercussions with Dumbledore of such an action would be."

"If it works, you will have the Boy Who Lived," James pointed out. "What a bargaining piece. I believe Dumbledore would have to listen to you at that point."

"As much as I admire that line of Slytherin thinking," Severus said, "I do not want to compromise my position as a spy. I need to fill that position or we won't have information as to the Death Eater's plans. No one else can be the spy. I think you have the wrong person to look after your son."

"No, we don't," Lily said. "Just trust in yourself a bit more. How can Harry ever hope to trust a man who doesn't even trust himself?"

.oO-Oo.

Severus found that he had slept in Saturday morning. Harry had gotten up, and was wondering around the chambers aimlessly. It wasn't like he had instructions about what he was supposed to do, and heaven forbid he pick out a book on his own and read it.

"Good morning, Harry," Severus said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said brightly. "Better than I can ever remember." Severus smiled at him.

"That's good," he said. His thoughts flew back to the dream of the previous night. Some would probably call it a vision, but Severus thought it was just a dream. There wasn't any reason to believe it to be anything more. It wasn't like James and Lily had told him anything he didn't already know. A guilt trip over not practicing his Occlemency that night. Reminding him about the responsibility Harry presented. Telling him to seek out custody through Lucius. And then reminding him to fix up his own life so that he could help Harry. He already knew all of that. It was just his subconscious telling him in the figures of Lily and James.

It had happened before with him. How often hadn't he gone to bed with a problem and found the solution in a dream? It was just a sign of having a strong mind. And it was a given fact that his mind was very strong. If he could fool the Dark Lord himself with his Occlemency, then he certainly was very strong.

.oO-Oo.

After breakfast, Harry looked up at Severus wonderingly. He had eaten his usual amount for breakfast. Small, but acceptable. Severus wanted to see Harry eat more, but Harry was slowly improving on his own.

"So, would you like to see this surprise now?" Severus said.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked. Severus had to wonder if he'd made the right choice in not telling Harry. Perhaps he had made the wrong choice. "Surprises" could hardly have been a good thing in Harry's past. Oh, well, what was done, was done.

"Come with me." Severus took out his wand, and walked with Harry to the far wall of his chambers. After incanting a long spell, he waved his wand, and a portal appeared before them.

"This will take us directly to the outside, and we won't have to walk in the halls with the other students. Don't worry, no one will be at this particular spot outside either. It's out there." Harry swallowed and nodded nervously. "Don't worry," Severus tried to assure him. "There's nothing to be scared of."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and allowed himself to be guided through the portal. They appeared outside, with the sun shining brightly. Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted from the dim light of the dungeons to the bright light of the outside.

"Here's the surprise," Severus said, handing Harry a package. Harry accepted it, and looked over the paper wrapping. It was long, about as tall as he was. There was a bulge at one end as well.

"You're supposed to open it up," Severus said, wondering where his patience was coming from. "Just rip the paper off." Harry bit his lower lip, contemplating the instructions. Severus knew Harry had never been given a present before, well, at least not in his memory, and it seemed sacrilegious to him to destroy anything - even plain brown wrapping paper. Of course Harry had been given an ocean of presents when he was an infant, still in the care of James and Lily. Even he had given the boy a present at his birth. More for his mother's sake that Harry's, but that was beside the point.

Finally, Harry's hand moved towards a seam in the paper, and he cautiously tore at it, glancing up every few moments to make sure Severus still approved of the actions. Every time there was a glance thrown his way, Severus would nod encouragingly. And so, slowly, tediously, Harry unwrapped the package. Eventually, the paper slipped off the item. Harry was holding a broom.

"It's a Nimbus 2000," Severus said, "even if that doesn't mean anything to you yet. I thought perhaps you'd like to fly on it."

"Fly, sir?" Harry questioned. After all, it wasn't like brooms were particularly aerodynamic.

"Yes, fly," Severus confirmed. "The broom is magical, and you would probably enjoy it, I think. Put it between your legs, with the broom end behind you." Harry did as he was told, as always, without question. "Now, focus on what you think it would feel like to start flying, and push off the ground."

Harry narrowed his eyes in concentration, and crouched low to the ground, holding the broom handle tightly. Then he sprang forward, both feet leaving the ground, but he was pulled back to earth, where he landed on his feet, and looked almost surprised that gravity had taken its natural course.

"Here let me help you," Severus said, standing next to Harry, with his hands on the broom, front and back of where Harry was sitting. Obviously, there was something wrong with the whole situation, probably stemming from Harry's suppression of magic. Severus was no broom expert. He could fly one, of course, but he didn't know anything about how it worked. He just did it. So there was probably something necessary for flying which Harry was suppressing. He murmured a few Latin words, which Harry didn't catch, and then stepped away.

"Try it again," Severus said, and Harry complied. This time, when he leaped from the ground, his broom took off into the air, and Harry yelped in surprise. He began to fly low to the ground, and always close to Severus, for which he was pleased. At least Harry showed that much intelligence on his first flying session.

Severus had spelled the broom to his own magic. Not an ideal solution, and not one he intended to keep forever, for Harry's magic needed to take over eventually, but for the meantime, as long as he was near enough, the broom would work off his magic instead of Harry's. The only question was in what sort of a space would he have to be before he would be out of range the the broom would fail? Harry was spiraling up, and Severus deemed that the safest way to determine the distance. If Harry exceeded the boundaries, he would fall vertically, and re-enter the magical field, unharmed.

But Harry never hit the boundary, before he came down of his own accord. He began flying in figure eights, and other patterns, experimenting with what he could do. Severus noticed that Harry was, in fact, quite skilled with a broom. Probably something he inherited from his father. Severus had no doubt that Harry would play for the Slytherin Quiddich team at some point. Obviously, Harry would not be able to play for some time, but perhaps someday. As little interest as Severus took in brooms and Quiddich, he did like to see his house beat Gryffindor at every turn.

"Alright, time to come down," Severus finally called to Harry. He landed expertly, and got off the broom. Harry handed it to Severus, who didn't take it.

"It's yours," he said. "You can keep it. I don't fly that much anyway." Harry looked at Severus and then his broom in disbelief.

"Thank you, sir!" he finally gasped. Severus nodded an acknowledgement.

.oO-Oo.

The weekend proved fruitful in Harry's progress in his school subjects, and his skills in flying. Severus had Harry meditating every night now, searching for his magic, and then trying to make it grow. After that, Severus continued to follow the schedule of Friday night, giving Harry his massage, effectively taking away most of the muscle soreness that would otherwise plague Harry after hours of flying.

There was no progress in Harry's magic performance though. And Severus expected as such. He was not disappointed in Harry's lack of ability, since he realized that it had taken years to reach this predicament. Perhaps it would take years to show Harry otherwise. The boy would have to show an uncommon resilience not to take years to be able to perform magic.

Perhaps Dumbledore, in the end, did not protect his weapon, but rather destroyed him for anyone.

.oO-Oo.

It was Monday evening, and Severus and Harry had just finished their supper (which Severus continued to take in his chambers, due to Harry's inability to eat in the Great Hall yet.) They had gone over Transfiguration and Charms - of course, more in theory than in practice.

"You do realize what tonight is, don't you?" Severus asked.

"No, sir," Harry replied.

"Tonight, you have a guest. Miss Hermione Granger is going to be coming. She's a Ravenclaw first year."

"Yes, sir." Harry fidgeted in his seat nervously, and Severus noticed.

"Is there something on your mind?" he questioned.

"I - I've never seen a girl before..." Harry muttered. "Are they - are they scary?" Severus almost smiled.

"Well, I suppose you might find her a bit scary in the beginning, but no, in reality, girls aren't scary," he assured Harry. He wanted to throw in a comment about kissing one would be scary, but Severus bit it back, knowing that it was probably in very bad taste and could be quite problematic for Harry.

"What is a girl like?" Severus blinked stupidly at the question. How in the world was he going to answer that?

"Well," he said, shamelessly stalling for time, "I suppose that they're really like any other person. They can be more emotional though. And sometimes they cry a lot for no reason."

"Why would they do that?"

"I suppose...well, sometimes I guess they just feel sad for reasons more complex that you or I could ever hope to understand, and then that frustrates them when we don't understand, and they get upset and cry." Alright, Severus knew he was grasping at straws and stringing words together, hoping to satisfy Harry's questions.

"Why are they girls?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Pardon?" Severus asked.

"What makes them girls?" Inwardly, Severus groaned. He didn't want to have this conversation ever, certainly not now, and not with Harry, not this soon. There was a knock at the door, and Severus thanked whatever deity there was for saving him from having to answer that question.

"That, I believe," Severus said, getting up, "would be Miss Granger. Come." Harry slid off his chair and followed Severus into the foyer. Severus opened the door, and there stood Hermione, nervously playing with her hands, and in fresh, clean Ravenclaw robes.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said. "This is Mr. Harry Potter. Harry, this is Hermione Granger."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said, stepping into Severus' chambers. He closed the door behind her.

"Hi," Harry mumbled, looking at the ground, every so often glancing up at Hermione.

.oO-Oo.

She was so different from anyone he'd seen before. Granted, he knew he hadn't seen that many people, except in the Great Hall for the sorting feast, but this was different. He was talking to her one on one, not in a big room with everyone. She had long poofy hair, and she seemed very confident and assertive.

"Hi," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the ground. He found it hard to look at her, with her gaze boring holes into his soul. Or at least that was how it felt. Suddenly he noticed that her hand was extended towards him. He just looked at it and her face, trying to figure out what to do with it.

"You shake it," Professor Snape said, very quietly, as he walked behind him. So Harry cautiously put his hand out, and Hermione grasped his firmly, giving one strong shake before releasing it.

"Pleased to meet you, Harry," Hermione said.

"You too," Harry said, almost smiling shyly, as he looked at her sidelong. There was an awkward silence as the two children just looked at each other, Hermione waiting for Harry to do something, and Harry not knowing what to do.

"Perhaps you could play a game?" Professor Snape suggested.

"Yes, sir," Harry said quickly.

"Here's the Exploding Snap deck," he said, handing it to him. "Have fun, and don't bother me unless there's a problem. I will be in my office grading essays. Including yours, Miss Granger." He walked off, leaving his office door open a crack.

.oO-Oo.

Severus had to cover for Harry a little bit. He didn't want to interfere with the boy's social life, but apparently, Harry was inept enough that he'd need a little help. And he should have expected such. It had been his experience that a game was a good way to get started, because it provided a common thing for the parties involved to focus on.

He left his office door open so that he could hear if anything went wrong with Harry and Hermione. That way, he could conveniently "finish" his grading, or get something from the kitchen.

He hoped that the instructions to leave him alone hadn't been too harsh on Harry. He didn't want to come off as some emotional Hufflepuff in front of Hermione, and he didn't want Harry seeking refuge with him when he needed to learn how to deal with other children.

So Severus sat down at his desk, and began grading the potions essays turned into him by the first year Ravenclaws.

.oO-Oo.

"Umm..." Harry said, staring at the door that Professor Snape had just walked through. He wanted his professor to come back and help him deal with...with this girl. He didn't want her to burst into tears. He wouldn't know what to do.

"There's a table over there if you want to start playing it," Hermione suggested.

"There's a floor here," Harry observed, still too nervous to use the furniture in front of anyone but Professor Snape.

"Alright," Hermione shrugged, sitting on the floor. Harry quickly sat down across from her, turning the deck of cards in his hands. They were silent for a moment.

"Oh," Harry suddenly said. "I'm supposed to start."

"Yes," Hermione giggled. Harry smiled nervously at her. As long as she thought it was funny, and she wasn't upset or angry with him, that was fine. So he started dealing out the cards like Nitty had shown him, and they began to play.

Slowly, Harry's nervous defenses began to come down. He began to play the game with Hermione, although every so often he would still snap back into his rigid safety zone. Hermione was handling it well, not commenting on any of Harry's strange behavior, and letting him take his time with things.

All too soon, Professor Snape came out of his office. Harry jumped to his feet, followed by Hermione. Harry hoped he hadn't done anything wrong. Maybe they had been too loud and his professor was upset at having been disturbed?

"It's getting late," Professor Snape said. "It's almost curfew, I want you to be back in your common room before then, Miss Granger. Here is a note from me if Mr. Filch should give you a hard time about being out." He handed her a slip of paper, and walked to the door. Hermione followed him.

"Good night, Harry," she said. "It was fun!" Then she smiled at him, and Harry felt his face flush.

"Good night," he said, trying not to sound silly. "It was." And he smiled back.

.oO-Oo.

After the usual bedtime ablutions, Harry lay in bed thinking. It had been a long day, all things considering. He had worked on his Transfiguration and Charms theory. Still unable to do the spells, Harry was getting frustrated with the classes. Professor Snape insisted on him learning the theory though, because the more theory he learned now, the less difficulty he would have later on when he could perform the spells. He hated every minute of learning the theory without being able to do it - to know there was something beyond his ability - but he did it anyway, the studying, without any sign of complaint. It was certainly the least he could do, to study something. Professor Snape never did anything else to him that was in the least unpleasant, really.

Then he and the Professor had had supper, and then the Hermione girl had come. And that puzzled Harry. It puzzled him as to why anyone would want to come to play with him, and he was also puzzled about her. She hadn't cried. In fact, she seemed very level headed. Cold, but not unfriendly. He wasn't sure he could imagine her crying, at least not easily. But the the Professor had said that girls just cried without any reason sometimes, and that he wouldn't be able to understand it.

Oh, well. He supposed he could write off understand Hermione to the same category as his spells. But he did like her. In fact, he really liked her. It wasn't that they had talked a whole lot. There had only been a few personal statements, and most of what little they had said had been about the card game. But he liked it that she didn't ask questions and didn't pry. She just accepted what happened, no questions asked. It was a relief to escape his past and his reality, even if he did like his current life. For a few hours, then, in the evening, he could forget that he needed to learn to do spells, or write an essay for potions. He could just be himself, Harry.

He could just be a child.


	18. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

It was Tuesday evening, and the day had gone very normally. Harry had done well at Potions and Herbology, as always, and Severus was pleased with his progress. Harry was doing everything in his power to please him, almost too much. It unnerved Severus just how much Harry tried to earn his approval. Somehow, Severus thought that Harry would do literally anything. If he asked Harry to join the Dark Lord for real, he wouldn't hesitate. Anything for the attention and approval that he had been denied for ten years.

Perhaps this was just the thing Dumbledore had hoped to instill in him. No, it definitely was. This desire for approval from a superior would have worked out perfectly into Dumbledore's scheming. Undoubtedly, Harry would have done anything, faced any and every danger, just to earn his - Dumbledore's - approval. And with his own disregard for his own worth, Severus definitely could see Harry doing just this. What would it matter if Harry risked his life? If Harry was as unconcerned about it as Severus feared, then risking it was small stakes if he could save anyone else, be it one individual or the world. Harry definitely would have been a prime candidate for Gryffindor, Severus realized. No wonder the hat had wanted to put him there. At the same time, Harry was not mis-sorted by being put in Slytherin either. He definitely had Slytherin traits.

A knock at the door brought Severus out of his reverie.

"That would be Neville," Severus said, getting up, much like he had done with Hermione the night previous, and opening the door, with Harry watching from the sidelines. Harry was much more confident - if that was an accurate word - around another boy. At least after some assurances.

.oO-Oo.

It was supper time, and Severus had just broached the subject of Neville Longbottom's visit that night.

"Neville Longbottom will be visiting tonight," Severus said. "Is that acceptable with you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"He's a Hufflepuff first year," Severus continued.

"So he's a boy," Harry said. Severus had to bite back a comment about Harry's acutely observant nature. He didn't want Harry to think he couldn't make a comment, because of an ill placed sarcastic remark. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing after all. He could tell when a comment would do more harm than he was willing to inflict over a point. "How...big...is he?" Harry then asked.

"If you're thinking about your cousin," Severus began, his eyes narrowing slightly, "then nothing like him. Neville is a very kind and quiet boy, clumsy in potions sometimes, but nothing like your cousin at all. Do not even begin to worry about that."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He bit his lower lip thoughtfully, and began quietly fidgeting.

"Oh, tell me what's wrong now," Severus sighed. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear about Harry's fears. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was just that he found it frustrating to try to help Harry when Harry did so little to let him help. It wasn't like Harry voiced his fears or concerns. No, he waited until they were spilling over before anything could be done about them. What other fears did Harry manage to hide from him? What hadn't he guessed yet? Severus almost didn't want to know.

"Well," Harry began, and he seemed to almost choke on the next thought. After a deep inhalation, he continued, "What if - well, what if Neville, you know -" And then Harry's voice had failed him. He dropped his eyes and shrugged. "It's nothing," he muttered.

"No," Severus contracted, sternly, but not harshly, "it's not 'nothing.' Explain to me what you're thinking." Harry's mouth opened and closed systematically, in shock, at the direct statement, Severus supposed. After a moment, Harry seemed to collect himself.

"Well, Neville won't like me," Harry stated. "And then I won't know what to do. And what if Draco finds out?" There was a pregnant pause. "Or Hermione? What if Neville tells them something and then they don't like me either?"

"And what would he tell them that they wouldn't like you about? Why wouldn't he like you?" There were clear signs of distress written over all of Harry's body language. Finally he stood bolt upright and moved so there there was the chair between himself and Severus. Gripping the chair so firmly that his knuckles showed white, he hitched a breath before continuing to speak.

"I don't know anything about how to be friends with someone!" Harry sobbed, sounding desperate, more desperate than Severus would ever have wanted to see anyone behave. "And what if they find out about...about..." Harry's eyes began to fill with tears. "They'd hate me, and find someone else to be friends with. I'm no good at being friends with anyone." His voice was nothing but a sullen mutter at the end. Severus wanted to tell him that Draco knew, and still liked Harry, but he also knew that Harry would see that as something of a betrayal right now, and that was the last thing he needed.

"I can promise you, Harry," he began instead, "that you will do just fine, and that they won't hate you. Even if you told them about your abuse. They would understand, or at least they'd try. I'm sure you're going to be one of the best friends a person could hope for." Harry was still shaking with the distress of the situation.

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry whispered.

"You will be loyal until the end," Severus replied calmly. "Once you've made a commitment to a friend, you would never turn your back on said individual. There's a value in that, even if you might not know all the niceties of society. It's a better friend who can be unwittingly be rude but will be there for you when someone goes wrong than one who can play an act of politeness in front of you and leaves at the moment of need."

"Yes, sir," Harry murmured.

"Everything will be fine. Neville is shy and I am sure he's almost as nervous about meeting you as you are of meeting him."

"Really, sir?" Harry asked, perking up a bit.

"Yes, and he's also deathly afraid of me," Severus continued. "If he will come to my chambers despite his fear, to meet you, despite his shyness, I think you can give him a little faith that he really will like you."

"Yes, sir." And Harry smiled at him.

.oO-Oo.

"Hello, Professor," Neville said, playing with the cuff of his robes.

"Good evening, Mr. Longbottom," the Professor replied. Neville stepped in, keeping a wary eye on Professor Snape and adjusting the shoulder strap on the bag he was carrying. Then he glanced over at Harry. Neville gave him a quick, weak smile.

"Hi, Harry," he said, and held his hand out. This time, Harry knew what to do with it, and shook Neville's hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Hi, Neville," Harry responded. The boy was much bigger than he was, but smaller than Dudley had been. And then the Professor had promised that Neville was kind. So at some level, Harry knew he shouldn't be so intimidated, but he still was. Then Neville reached in his bag and pulled out a box.

"Hey, I brought a checker game," Neville said. "I thought - well, it's a Muggle game, and I thought maybe it was something you knew how to play." Neville seemed just as unsure of himself as Harry felt, but Harry didn't know how to explain that he didn't know how to play checkers. Harry looked up at Professor Snape, hoping that he would provide an explanation on his behalf. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Longbottom," he said, instead, "and come get me in my office if there is any reason." With a quick look at Harry, Professor Snape left him to sort out the situation on his own.

.oO-Oo.

It wasn't that Severus wanted to make Harry uncomfortable with his new acquaintance, but it was the most controlled environment Severus could think of for Harry to begin associating with others. He, Severus, was nearby, in case anything got too out of hand, it was a one on one meeting, in a quiet and familiar environment. Harry needed to get used to dealing with others by himself, and this was the best way, much as Severus wanted to intervene and spare Harry the upset.

So he sat down at his desk, as he had the night before, with the door slightly open, to do more grading and correcting on the potions work which had turned into him that day.

.oO-Oo.

"So," Neville said nervously, "you want to play?"

"I - " Harry began, and then his voice just stopped working. So he took a deep breath and tried again. "No, not really," Harry finally spit out.

"Oh," Neville said, sounding disappointed, and dropping his gaze. "Sorry, I just thought it would be something you might like to play."

"It's fine," Harry said, beginning to hyperventilate.

"Breathe, Harry," Neville said, noticing Harry's lack of exhalation. At the prompt, Harry let out his breath slowly.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Neville shrugged. "I do it all the time when I get nervous. My grandma just tells me to breathe, and then I get better."

"Your grandma?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, my dad's mom," Neville said. "I live with her. And when I get nervous here, when she's not around, I just imagine her telling me to breath."

"And it works?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Neville responded. He sat down on the floor with his back to the couch, with his knees pulled up. Harry looked unsure for a moment, but then Neville patted the spot to his left, he sat down next to Neville. They were quiet a moment, both feeling a bit awkward.

"You hyperventilate a lot?" Neville asked, desperately searching for a topic of conversation. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "Do you?"

"I guess," Neville said. They were quiet again, as Neville tried to think of something to say. "Um - so, what do you like to do?"

"Like to do?" Harry parroted.

"Yeah, like what kind of hobbies to you have? What do you do in your spare time?"

"Um..." Harry stammered. "Hobbies?" He was stalling for time, hoping to think of an acceptable answer before Neville got annoyed with him.

"Yeah, like, well - " And then it was Neville's turn to stammer. "Like things you do and they take some skill sometimes. Like bird watching."

"Wizards watch birds?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow, not unlike a certain professor.

"Lots of wizards do," Neville said with a shrug.

"What do they do when they watch the birds?"

"My grandma takes me with her when she goes bird watching, and she tells me all about each bird, how the make their nests, and how to tell their calls apart."

"That sounds boring," Harry commented, glad that they were no longer talking about his hobbies, or lack thereof.

"It is," Neville said. "It's really boring."

"At least you don't get left behind though," Harry pointed out.

"Pfft," Neville scoffed. "I'd rather get left behind." Harry swallowed nervously as he stared at Neville, his mind blank. "What are you staring at?" Neville asked, not unkindly. "Do I have something on me?" He began to inspect himself, and found nothing.

"No," Harry said. "Why would you rather be left behind?" Harry's voice betrayed the pure shock and wonder at Neville's comment.

"Oh, well, I could work on these airplane models that I have. They're Muggle toys, but they're fun to glue together. Do you ever glue model planes together?"

"...no," Harry said. "I never did that."

"Wouldn't you rather be left behind if your family was going bird watching? Even you thought it sounded boring." Harry shrugged, and looked at the fire, unable to meet Neville's curios gaze.

"I guess..." Harry began. "They never took me bird watching, when they'd go," Harry murmured. "And I hated being alone." He left out the part about being locked in the cupboard with a limited water supply until they returned. If he was lucky, they'd give him a little food to tide him over as well.

"Then what'd you do?" Neville asked, still curious. "It's not like you're old enough to be left alone. There's laws against that! That's why I have to go with my grandma." Harry just shrugged, not trusting his voice to even make up an answer as he felt a block in his throat at memories that were replaying in his mind.

Harry pulled his knees up close and wrapped his arms around them. His eyes had a glassy look to them as he stared into the fire. It wasn't that he liked being around what he saw as his family. It was that the alternative was so much worse. Being locked in a cupboard for a week at a time, with rationed amounts of food and water, with nothing to do, and the air having gone stale quickly, was a horrible situation even when faced with beatings when they were around. Harry had no way to tell the passage of time in the cupboard either. Locked in his cupboard, with everyone gone, the silence had been deafening. He had done anything to just get a little noise, as long as he knew no one would be there to hear it.

Once, he had tried to claw his way out of the cupboard. He drank his water too fast, and had run out. Not knowing how long a human could live without water, out of desperation and fear of death, he had scratched and worked at the lock on the door. Nothing had come of it, except a beating once his aunt and uncle had returned the next day and seen the damage. No amount of explanation or apology had lessened their anger.

"Harry!" Suddenly, he was torn from his memories as Neville grabbed him by the shoulder, still sitting next to him, and began to shake him gently. "Are you alright?" Neville sounded genuinely concerned. Harry shuttered once, and winced at the question.

"Yeah, sorry," Harry muttered.

"What happened? I was trying to talk to you and you just...weren't hearing me."

"Sorry," Harry apologized louder. "It happens every so often. I was just thinking."

"What about?" Even Neville knew he was treading on sensitive territory. He could read people emotionally. It was a skill he quickly picked up on living in the Hufflepuff dorms, even for just a week.

"Just..." Harry fumbled, "just stuff." Harry tried to nod and smile to add believability to his answer. It sounded weak and pathetic in his own ears, so how must it sound in Neville's?

"Oh," Neville said. "You don't want to talk about it?"

"No," Harry said decisively. He most certainly did not want to talk about it to anyone. If he had to, it was going to be to Professor Snape and that was it.

"Alright," Neville agreed. "I don't know what you were thinking about, Harry, but if you ever want to talk about it, well..." Neville's voice began getting quieter and he finished with a shrug.

"I won't," Harry stated simply.

"But if you do," Neville pressed, "I'll listen."

"Okay," Harry said, and smiled a little. "Thanks."

"No problem." And Neville smiled back. "So what do you want to do?"

"Um..." Harry searched his mind for an idea. "Exploding Snap?" he finally suggested. After all, it was the only game he knew how to play.

"Okay," Neville agreed. "Do you have a deck? I didn't bring any."

"Nitty has one," Harry said. "Nitty?" he asked to the air. And Nitty popped into the room. Harry jumped, even though he was expecting her. "Could we borrow your Exploding Snap deck, please?" Harry asked.

"Sure, Master Harry," Nitty agreed, and in a moment had popped back with her deck. Neville and Harry spent the rest of the evening playing Exploding Snap, which had quickly become Harry's safety zone - his protection - when trying to associate with anyone.

.oO-Oo.

It had been a long evening for Harry with Neville. Neville had come very close to some very sensitive issues. He had come close to finding out what a freak he was. Too close. Harry tried not to shiver at the thought, as he lay in bed, curled in on himself.

It had occurred to Harry to ask why Neville wasn't living with his parents, but Harry didn't want to cause any potential bad memories for Neville. What if Neville's parents had not wanted Neville? Or if somehow he had been taken from them? Or if they had been horrible to him?

You mean like the Dursleys were horrible to you? a little voice in his head whispered.

But Neville's different, he argued back. Neville's not like me.

.oO-Oo.

"Draco will be by tonight," Severus said. He was relieved to see a small smile creep onto Harry's face, rather than the usual fear and hesitation when he would announce that a stranger would be visiting. "I take it you're glad he is?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, blushing a bit.

"Well, it's all Draco has been able to speak about with me," he said. "So I think he's glad he's coming too." Harry just blushed deeper.

After supper, there was the expected knock at the door.

"That would be Draco," Severus said, getting up and answering the door. Harry came behind him, a bit more confident than the past two nights. After all, Draco wasn't a stranger. He knew a bit of what to expect from him.

"Hi, Draco," Harry said, as soon as they made eye-contact.

"Hi, Harry!" Draco greeted him in return, and gave him a huge smile.

"Do step in, Draco," Severus said, closing the door behind him. "Behave yourselves, and come to get me if you need me. Draco, you know your way around my chambers - heaven knows you've been here enough - so make yourself at home."

For the third time that week, Severus left Harry to his own devices. This time, though, he was sure that Harry would do well. Draco knew what he was dealing with, and Severus trusted Draco. Maybe not as Harry's moral adviser, but he trusted Draco to handle Harry with basic tact and not let the situation get out of hand. He trusted Draco to be dominant enough in the friendship to always lead Harry but not forceful enough to make Harry feel uncomfortable.

He had heard the conversation Harry and Neville had had the night before. It had unnerved him, Neville's crying out Harry's name with no response, and he had gone to the doorway - unseen by Neville or Harry, of course - and assessed the situation. He knew Harry was locked in some awful memory. If he had been alone with Harry at the time, he would have addressed it with Harry. But as it was, he didn't want to bring it up that he had overheard what had transpired. Severus would have preferred that if Neville was going to ask sensitive questions that he make Harry answer them - or simply not ask the questions at all. It set a bad precedent, in Severus' mind, but that was the way of a Hufflepuff. They wore their hearts on the sleeves, and were willing to talk about anything with anyone. He suspected that that was Neville's confusion about Harry's lack of conversation on the matter. But Neville hadn't been totally without tact in that conversation either, and Severus had let it go. If everything was going to be the way he preferred, he had better do all the work. So he was going to have to put up with things being handled differently than he would handle them.

.oO-Oo.

"I have some Every-Flavor-Beans for you, Harry!" Draco sang out as soon as Professor Snape had left the room. Draco rummaged around in his bag, and pulled out a paper box. "I got them on the train for you."

"Thank you," Harry said, smiling a bit, as he hesitantly reached for the box being held out to him.

"They literally come in every flavor," Draco was quick to explain. "Sometimes they're awful flavors, but most of them are good. And it's always funny to get one that tastes bad, you know, trying to identify what it is."

"Sure," Harry said, grinning wider.

"And!" Draco said, dramatically looking back into his bag, "I also brought some of these! Chocolate frogs!" Harry gasped as Draco thrust the box of chocolate frogs into his hands as well. "They're spelled to move around, and they come with cards. They have pictures and facts about famous wizards on them."

"Wow," Harry breathed, too lost for words.

"You can eat the chocolate and learn about the wizards in one sitting," Draco pointed out. "Not a bad proposition, really. Those cards have taught me more about wizards history than my history books ever did."

"Really?" Harry said, as Draco walked over to the couch and sat down. Harry looked dismayed for a moment.

"Yep, really," Draco said. "C'mon, sit down." Harry did so, as Draco continued. "You know, there aren't any wizarding primary schools really - well, maybe you didn't know that - but there aren't, and so some wizard families use the Muggle primary schools, but others just teach their kids at home for the primary school years."

"What did you do?" Harry asked.

"My parents taught me at home," Draco said. "That way I could learn about wizards and stuff. And anyway, when I'd take a history test or something, there'd sometimes be questions about people I didn't remember studying, but the answers would be on the cards, and I'd study them and get the answers right that way."

"Were you allowed to have the cards with you?"

"Oh, no," Draco said. "That would have been cheating. I have to remember the stuff, but no one cares where you learn it as long as you learn it."

"Oh, okay," Harry said.

"You want to open the beans?" Draco prompted.

"Alright," Harry said, opening up the paper box. He looked, and it was filled with little bits of candy. They looked like the jelly beans Dudley used to get from the sweet shop, only these had more colors.

"Pick one and try it," Draco said. Harry reached in the box and picked one.

"This one?" Harry asked.

"Nah, that's a sickly green," Draco said. "It's probably not that good. At best it's going to be lime, at worst...well, moving on. Here's a purple one. Purple is always grape. Try this one instead. Then you can try the green one if you want."

Of course, Harry complied with Draco's instructions. He put the green one back in the box and pulled out the purple one. After examining it as though he thought it might bite him, Harry instead bit the bean as he popped it in his mouth. A look of sheer surprise came over his face as he tasted it.

"Good, huh?" Draco said, reaching in the box himself and taking out a random bean. "Eck, red. Could be something harmless like cherry or strawberry." He threw it in the air and caught it in his mouth, as he grinned at Harry. Then he looked shocked and began to cough.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Draco choked out between coughs. "It was - it was Tabasco. What sort of an idiot flavors a bean like Tabasco?!"

"Um...Bertie Bott?" Harry guessed, after having stalled for enough time that he could read the name.

"Haha," Draco laughed, genuinely, making Harry feel warm that he successfully made a joke, apparently, "you're right. He's exactly the idiot who did that. And we're the idiots who buy them even though he warns us right there what they are." Harry smiled as Draco continued to laugh.

After a while, Draco suggested they open the chocolate frogs. Harry grabbed the box, and handed it to Draco, who, after a moment's surprise, opened the wrapping on the box.

"Open it up," Draco instructed excitedly. And Harry did so. He pulled the lid off without any guard near the rim of the box, and the frogs began jumping out. They jumped onto the couch and floor in no time.

"Close it!" Draco yelled, and Harry snapped it closed faster than Draco had ever seen anyone move.

"Sorry," Harry said, hoping he hadn't done anything too wrong.

"It's fine," Draco said. "Only two got out, I think. We just need to find them, is all. Look! There they are! I'll get the one on the right, you get the one on the left, okay?"

"Sure," Harry said, and watched as Draco sneaked up behind his frog and then sprang forward catching it in his hands. Harry copied Draco's actions, and successfully caught his frog as well.

"Every caught a frog before?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry said, wondering if he should have or not.

"Okay, so now that you've caught your first frog, eat it." Draco popped his into his mouth.

"But - but -" Harry began to protest.

"What's wrong?" Draco said.

"It's alive," Harry said weakly, as the frog continued to struggle in his hands.

"No, it's not," Draco said. "It's just spelled to move. It'll melt in your hands if you don't eat it soon, and then it'll stop moving too." Harry looked at the little brown frog in his hands, and brought it up to eye level. He noticed the little eyes of the frog as they looked at him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said after a moment. "I can't."

"Food is alive," Draco said. "Or at least it used to be."

"Yeah," Harry said weakly. "I know."

"This isn't even living."

"Yeah. I know."

"There's no reason you can't eat it," Draco pressed.

"It's just - it's just - " Harry began stammering. "It's looking at me! How can I eat something that's looking at me?" His voice seemed a bit distraught.

"It's not alive!" Draco insisted. Then, after a moment's thought, said, "If you don't want to eat it, that's fine too. I can put it back in the box." Harry handed the frog back to Draco, but found that when he tried, a bunch of the chocolate had melted into his hands. Seperated from the rest of the chocolate, the frog had lost its spell and stopped moving.

"Well," Draco said, "it's not moving anymore. The spell's gone. Want to eat it now?" Harry brought one of his chocolate stained fingers to his mouth and licked it. A look of bliss crossed his face as he closed his eyes, savoring the heavenly taste.

"It's amazing," Harry said.

"Yeah, here's the rest of it," Draco said, smiling as Harry accept the rest of the frog.

.oO-Oo.

It had been a wonderful evening for Harry. Draco and he had laughed and enjoyed the beans and frogs. Draco was definitely the one person outside of Professor Snape that Harry felt comfortable around.

He liked Hermione and Neville well enough. They had been really nice, in their own ways. But there was something about Draco - some unspoken agreement.

Suddenly Harry realized, it was like Draco knew about his past. Knew what had been done to him. Knew all of his most kept secrets. Harry dismissed the thought as rubbish though. Not only had Draco not had a way to find out, but if Draco knew, then he wouldn't have come down to visit him that night. So obviously Draco had no idea.

.oO-Oo.

Just one more evening. Then these children traipsing through his chambers would be over for the week. Severus had arranged with them for this to be a weekly thing, so starting Monday, it would begin all over again. But he would have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings to himself. Well, he had planned that on Friday, he and Harry would spend some time together. More than just teaching him, or dealing with the mess his relatives had left.

But rather than trying to stay out of the way then, he would be controlling it. Honestly, it would be a lot less stressful for him. Hands on was always less stressful, he felt.

"Ronald Weasley is your guest tonight," Severus said as they sat down to supper. "He goes by Ron, apparently. He's a Gryffindor, and comes from a large family."

"What's he like?" Harry asked.

"I honestly don't know," Severus said. "His brothers, though, have had quite a variety in their personalities. William and Charles were both good workers, acceptable in potions, very respectable. Percival, well, since he's currently my student, my comments must be limited, but let us say, I feel his attitude is simply an act he puts on, and badly at that. Then there are the twins, Fred and George. They are particularly good students, but have a habit of playing pranks at every turn. How Ronald will behave, I don't know yet."

"Will he be - nice?" Harry continued.

"I would expect so," Severus answered. If Ron wasn't nice, Severus would see to it that he would be serving detention for the rest of the school year. In class, Ron had given him no reason to hate him any more than any other Gryffindor. Typical lack of attention to class generally, but no added stubbornness or disrespect.

.oO-Oo.

"Hello, Professor Snape," Ron said when the door opened. Ron stepped in, and looked at Professor Snape warily.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," he replied. "This is Mr. Harry Potter, and Harry, this is Ronald Weasley."

"Hi, Ronald," Harry said, now offering his hand for Ron to shake. Ron accepted it gratefully with a forceful shake.

"Just Ron, please," he said. "Nice to meet you, Harry."

"You too," Harry said.

"Hey, I brought wizards' chess," Ron said, showing Harry the box he was carrying. "I can teach you if you don't know how to play."

"I'll leave you to your own devices," Professor Snape announced suddenly. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter." He turned and left.

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat down at his desk, as he had every night previously. He hoped Ron would prove a good companion for Harry.

Wow, he was tired. His nights were restless, and his days were packed with work. Perhaps if he just rested for a moment, he would feel better. He lay his head on his arms on his desk. Just for a minute, he told himself.

In that minute, Severus Snape drifted into a much needed sleep.

.oO-Oo.

Ron began setting up the board on the table nearby. He began explaining the names of the pieces and their functions.

"Am I going too fast for you?" Ron asked eventually. "Most first years don't know how to play. It's horrible, not having a chess partner."

"It's fine," Harry assured him. Actually, Ron had lost Harry at the beginning of his explanation. This game was more complicated than he had ever thought to play. But he would try to fake his way through the game, he figured.

"Hey, what's it like, living with Snape?" Ron suddenly asked.

"It's great," Harry said.

"Really? He treats you right?" Ron sounded surprised at the thought.

"Yeah, he's always really good to me," Harry said, puzzled. Too good, Harry added to himself. His professor was too good to him.

"I'm surprised," Ron said. "He can be a real jerk sometimes in class, especially to the Gryffindors."

"I don't - " but then Harry cut himself off. "Really?"

"Yeah, he takes points away all the time," Ron said. Then he shrugged. "Well, I guess you're a Slytherin, so it's different for you." Harry just shrugged. "But he treats you right?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "He's good."

"That's good," Ron said. "I suppose he would be, asking us all down here and everything."

"What?" Harry said.

"I suppose it was sort of a stupid question," Ron clarified.

"No, what was that about asking you?"

"Oh, Snape asked Draco and me after class one day to come visit you. And then there's this girl, Hermione, - we met on the train - and she said that Snape asked her and Neville to visit you too." Harry had paled drastically. "You alright?"

"Yes," Harry murmured, "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Ron observed casually. "Are you sure you shouldn't lie down or something? You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," Harry said, more insistently this time. Ron got up wordless and in a moment came back with a glass of water.

"Here, drink this," he said. "It might make you feel better."

"I'm - fine!" Harry growled at him.

"Okay, sorry," Ron said defensively. "Here, let's just play some chess."

.oO-Oo.

It had been a long, long evening with Ron. Finally, after several games of chess (which had given Harry a monster headache), Professor Snape had come back and told Ron it was time to go before curfew. They had said good-bye, and then Harry quickly said good-night to his professor, and retreated to the seclusion of his bedroom.

Professor Snape had asked them all here. That had been why they had come. It wasn't because they liked him - Harry. It was because they had been asked to. And they probably couldn't say no to a professor even if they wanted to. Hermione had been stiff. She certainly didn't want to be there. Neville had been scared. He certainly didn't want to be there. Ron, well, he almost said he didn't want to be there. Or at least, that was the impression Harry got. Draco was the only one who had seemed like he wanted to be there. But maybe that was just a good act. He probably didn't want to be there either.

He had had friends - or so he thought. And now he had lost them - or so he thought. No, rather, he never had them to begin with. There was nothing to lose.

He should have known better, he told himself angrily. He should have known that someone like himself couldn't really have friends. People might spend time with him, even willingly, but it would be to use him, to invent in him. And most wouldn't even want that. It wasn't like he was good at anything.

But the part that stung the most was that his professor had done this to him. Professor Snape had asked them to come, and then Harry had opened himself for all this hurt because of it. He felt terrible. In many ways, he felt worse than after he'd had a beating from his uncle. He had trusted Professor Snape to look after him.

He had trusted.


	19. Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Severus didn't like how Harry had acted before he went to bed. His good night was short and strained. Something had happened, Severus was sure, but due to his falling asleep, Severus didn't know what.

He wanted to kick himself in the backside for falling asleep at a critical moment. He shouldn't give out like that. He was a full grown man, and a bit too old to take naps. He pinched the bridge of his nose, schooling his mind behind Occlemency shields.

That done, Severus walked to the doorway of Harry's bedroom, and leaned his back against the door frame, glancing over his shoulder at Harry. The chambers were dark, and he had been silent. Harry didn't know he was there, and every so often, Severus heard Harry's breath catch. Silently crying.

Severus was more upset in his own lack of vigilance than he was angry at Ron for who knew what offense. He couldn't afford this. He had to be the strong one. The one who didn't make mistakes. He had one chance to get this right, and he couldn't mess this one up. Harry could be lost at any point, and Severus would never forgive himself if Harry was lost through a stupid case of negligence on his part.

There it was again. Harry's breath catching. Severus stood up and silently moved to Harry's bed. He sat down on the edge, and laid a gentle hand on Harry's head, smoothing the hair. Harry flinched and turned his face into the pillow, refusing to look at Severus.

"Shh," Severus whispered. "Tell me what's wrong." Harry shook his head into the pillow. Severus sighed. It seemed they were back where they started a month before. What had happened?

"What did Ron do?" Severus pressed. "I'll see it to that he doesn't hurt you again. I'm sorry." Harry mumbled something into his pillow that Severus didn't catch.

"Pardon?" Severus asked. "I can't understand you talking into your pillow."

"I said," Harry choked out, lifting his face from the pillow a half inch, but still not looking at Severus, "that Ron didn't do anything."

"Then what's wrong?" Severus said. "What happened? Was it something he said?"

"Ron didn't do anything," Harry repeated, as if he were afraid of something befalling Ron. "You - you - " Harry stammered, before he fell back into the pillow, with his shoulder shaking silently. Severus laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," Severus whispered in his ear.

"Don't want help. Please. Just...go away," was what Severus was able to make out from the muffled voice in the pillow.

"Alright," Severus said after a moment. "Alright, I'll leave you alone. But if you change your mind, I will be here for you." There was no response, and so Severus stood up and left the room.

Something had happened. Something that bothered Harry deeply, and Severus was no closer to discovering what it was. He could feel the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes, and he knew that he wasn't going to be going to bed that night without some pain-killers.

.oO-Oo.

Harry just kept crying, even after Professor Snape left. It hurt. It hurt so much. But he wasn't bleeding or wounded. No one had hit him, yet he was in so much pain.

He hadn't wanted friends who just showed up because of obligation. He was angry with himself that he had even entertained the thought that they were there because they wanted to be. Professor Snape had told him that they were there for him, and then Ron told him that the Professor had asked them there. So it was like Professor Snape had lied to him when he had been assured that Draco and the others were there because they wanted to be.

He would just love it if he were good enough to have people want to be around him. The Professor had told him what he wanted to hear, what he had desperately wanted to hear. He had been blind enough to believe him, or at least hope that it could be true.

Why, oh why, had he been such a fool?

.oO-Oo.

Severus pulled his cloak around his shoulders as he walked down the hall to the Gryffindor common room. Distracted by his own thoughts, he hardly realized that he had arrived before he walked into The Fat Lady. His hands were slightly damp from the sweat of anticipation.

"Well, well," the Fat Lady said, making him realize where he was, "if it isn't Severus Snape. If you think you can just go barging into the Gryffindor common room, you'll have to wait a long time."

"I need to speak with Ronald Weasley," Severus said.

"It's after curfew, you know," the portrait replied. "It's against school rules to be out of the common room after." The old woman was enjoying this, Severus was sure. After all, he was the prime culprit for giving curfew breakers detention.

"Unless they are with a professor," Severus said. "And I need to speak with Mr. Weasley. Now, I would greatly appreciate it if you would send him out here."

"Alright," the Fat Lady sighed, and momentarily left her frame. In a few minutes, a sleepy-eyed, pajama clad Ron came stumbling out of the common room.

"I'm sorry, Professor!" Ron immediately said.

"What happened?" Severus growled.

"I don't know!" Ron said. "What did I do?"

"Well, that's what I'm here about," Severus said. Ron's tone and facial expressions told him that Ron truly didn't know what was going on. And he was apologizing to be safe, since having the dungeon bat come to get you out of bed was never a good sign.

"I don't know what happened," Ron said again.

"Harry is upset about something," Severus hissed. "And he won't tell me what it is. I need to know what happened." He wasn't about to admit that he'd fallen asleep. Ron didn't have to know that.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't know!" Ron said. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Fine," he said. "Just tell me what happened. Tell me what you said."

"Well, I brought wizarding chess, and I asked him if he wanted to learn. He said yes, and I said that was great because I couldn't find a first year who wanted to learn. So I started explaining the rules, and then I asked him if - " And then Ron's voice cut off.

"If?"

"If everything was okay for him. You know," he shrugged apologetically. "Sir. Well, he said it was, and that he liked you and everything, and I said that it was actually a stupid question on my part because of course you'd take care of him if you had asked us all down there to see him. And then he started to look sick, and I got him a glass of water - "

"You told him that I had invited you down there?"

"Yes, sir," Ron said.

"You told him that I had invited all of you? Draco, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir." Severus ground his palm into his forehead.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered almost silently. "Why? Why did you do that?" he asked, addressing Ron.

"Um..."

"'Um, sir,'" Severus corrected, more out of nerves than anything.

"Well, I didn't know I shouldn't!" Ron said.

"Alright," Severus said, reigning in his temper. "Go to bed, Mr. Weasley."

"No detention, sir?" Ron said after a moment's hesitation.

"There will be if you don't get back in your common room right now."

"Yes, sir!" Ron said, and was gone.

Turning, Severus stalked back to the dungeons, his mind overflowing with thoughts. So that had been what happened. He had fallen asleep, and Ron had told Harry that he had orchestrated the whole thing. Harry must have taken it hard.

It had been stupid on Ron's part to open his big mouth, but Severus knew that Ron hadn't meant to do any harm. What was worse, what was unforgivable, was that he hadn't been there to sort the mess out immediately. He'd failed Harry, yet again.

He'd arrived at his chamber door, and he rested his fist against it, and his forehead against his fist as he fumbled with the door knob. His mind kept replaying his conversation with Harry, and then with Ron, and lastly, how he had fallen asleep. Finally, the door opened, and he stumbled in. Closing the door behind him, and locking it shut, he ran his hands over his face.

Oh, dear God, Severus thought, how was he going to explain this to Harry? How was Harry every going to trust him? He knew that Harry saw this as a lie. Harry would think that the children had come to see him only because they had been asked. And at every turn, he had assured Harry that they were there for him. Severus prayed it wouldn't destroy Harry. Their bond, thin and delicate as it was, was likely burned away forever, Severus thought, but that was to be expected.

How could he have expected any different? Harry had told him to go away, and that was just how things worked. Harry would never trust him again, Severus was sure. It would mean Harry getting another caretaker. But anyone Harry would get - would they really understand what Harry was going through? Could they see into his mind, even if figuratively, and literally, if need be? Severus doubted it.

Maybe the whole issue was a lost cause before he began. Maybe Harry was too far gone. Maybe no one would be able to save him.

No, no, no, Severus told himself. He couldn't believe that. There had to be answer. Harry had to be able to be saved.

"I'm sorry, Lily," he thought. "I'm sorry...James. I'm so, so sorry."

With the bond broken between them, as Severus was sure it was, Harry wouldn't be able to live in his care anymore. He didn't want Harry to go to Lucius. Then Harry would be raised a Death Eater for sure, and it would be a terrible blow to anything that was left good on the side of the Light.

But there was the problem of Dumbledore. Dumbledore would take Harry from him if Lucius didn't get custody, and possibly raise the boy himself. Harry would be nothing but a weapon, an object, collateral damage. He couldn't stand by and let that happen. Otherwise, Dumbledore would send Harry back to the Dursleys. He could get them off charges, Severus was sure. He'd gotten him off of charges of being a Death Eater, hadn't he? Severus couldn't even make himself think of that possibility - Harry going back to his sorry excuse for relatives.

He walked into his bedroom, his mind half-drunk with the stress. It felt like his world was falling in around him. He should have known. He knew building his life around one person was setting up for disaster.

His headache was full blown now. Between that and his ever rising mound of problems, he was hardly aware that he had gone to his nightstand and opened the drawer. His breathing was ragged as he tried to gain control of his thoughts again, and failed. Not even his amount of mental training was enough to deal with everything that was happening. He felt overwhelmed.

He was exhausted. He was responsible for his students. He was a key player in a war. He was responsible for Harry. He had to keep Harry away from Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. And most of all, he was failing. He was a failure.

With the last thought, his eyes fell on a lone object in his nightstand's drawer. He blinked back what he thought would have been tears. Reaching out, he grabbed the object from the door. His fingers closed around an ivory handled knife. The ivory had had something inscribed in it long ago, but it was since worn away. It was smooth and cool to the touch. The blade gleamed in the flickering candlelight.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice told him to stop, not to do it. But it was distant, and Severus didn't think he could stop if he tried. Why should he? He closed his eyes, and tried to focus his mind again. He couldn't.

He sat down on the floor, in a corner, and brought the knife into his line of vision, turning it over in his hand as he turned thoughts over in his mind.

His life was spinning out of control. He couldn't control the war. He couldn't control Dumbledore. He couldn't control the Death Eaters. He couldn't control Harry. Heck, he couldn't even control himself. He couldn't live this way.

He summoned an old rag. What he certainly didn't want was the blood staining the floor. Setting both knife and cloth aside for a moment, he began to unbotton his shirt. He closed his eyes, his mind numb for the moment. It almost felt like a dream. Like a nightmare. Maybe he could wake up at any point. He shrugged his shirt off once the buttons were undone, and let it fall behind him.

Holding his left arm out in front of him, he moved the knife over it. Ah, his knife hadn't dulled at all since the last time he'd used it, right after finding Lily's body. The smooth, cold metal cut into his arm and he felt immediate relief, but guilt twinged his relief. The rational part of his mind told him he'd regret this later. But he ignored that part of his mind. He scared himself sometimes, and now was one of those times. As he watched the blood swell up from his first cut, he felt the knife began to slip as his hands broke into a cold sweat.

He might not be able to control the war. He might not be able to control Dumbledore. He might not be able to control the Death Eaters. He might not be able to control Harry. He might not even be able to control himself. But he could control how deep and how slowly his knife moved.

Quickly, Severus dropped his knife and grabbed the rag to catch the blood that was about to spill onto the floor. He applied pressure on the wound as he bled into the cloth.

"Oh, God," he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. "Please." He didn't even know what he was asking the deity for. Relief? Help? Death? He didn't know, but he hoped he'd postmarked it right so that God would actually receive it. His breath caught as he tried not to have a total breakdown. Tears pressed against his eyelids.

He felt stupid. He felt weak. And he felt childish. Suddenly his throat tightened and his lungs released a gasp of air. Two tears rolled down from the corners of his closed eyes. He tossed the rag aside, cracking his one eye open, and picked up the knife again, drawing it over his arm.

His breathing had become irregular as his stifled crying increased. Unlike Harry, he had never learned how to cry silently. He was a grown man! He shouldn't be sobbing like a child. But no matter what he did, he couldn't get himself under control. Finally, he gave up, and let his tears run freely.

He pressed the rag against his arm again.

"Oh God, oh God," he breathed again. "What have I done?" He looked at his bloodied knife, laying beside him on the floor. What had once looked like a beautiful form of escape, suddenly looked like a twisted and ugly opportunity for failure. "Tell me it's a dream. Tell me I can wake up."

How had this helped anything? How could it help anything? He grabbed his knife again and stood up, shaking, and went to the bathroom. He cleaned it in some water, setting down on the counter while he washed out his wounds, bandaging them with the rag. His hands shook as he tied a knot in the rag to old it in place.

Suddenly, he felt sick and weak, so he leaned over the sink, hands braced against the counter. After the wave passed, he looked up into the mirror. He looked terrible. He looked almost as bad as felt.

"I shouldn't be raising your child, Lily," he whispered to the mirror. "I don't know what you ever saw in me." He leaned his head against the mirror, letting the cold glass cool his feverish forehead. He brought the back of his hand over his eyes, trying to wipe away a fresh lot of tears, now falling into the sink.

Perhaps he couldn't redeem himself. Perhaps there was no answer for Harry, and there was no answer for him. Maybe they were both lost to what had been done to them. He had told Harry that they would sink or swim together, and right now they were sinking quickly.

He went back to his bedroom, and stretched himself out on his bed, cradling his left arm as he drifted to sleep from sheer exhaustion.

.oO-Oo.

Next morning, Severus woke up to his arm hurting. Memories of the previous night flooded back to his conscious mind. He cursed himself as he got up. He'd hoped it had all been a dream. After all, he'd had enough of them in that few hours where he'd done everything from cutting to suicide. At some level he knew it hadn't been a dream, but he could still hope.

Throwing the shirt from the night before into the laundry for Nitty to take care of, he pulled out a fresh one for that day's classes. He still had classes to teach, no matter what happened the previous night. His long sleeves would cover anything suspicious, and no one would be the wiser as to what had happened.

He'd acting foolishly, he knew. Had a full blown breakdown. He'd felt like his sanity was coming apart at the seams. He could continue on alone, like he had for the past ten years. He could deal with his issues himself.

.oO-Oo.

Harry woke, and slipped out of bed, dressing himself. He hadn't forgotten anything that had happened, and he was feeling terrible. His dreams had been haunted with unending horrors, and he'd woken in a cold sweat that morning, glad to be rid of his soaking clothes. He didn't want to eat, and he had no intention of showing up to the breakfast that he knew Nitty would have ready for him.

If Snape had lied to him about the reason the children had come down to visit him, then he probably had lied about him being worthy of food and clothes. Harry didn't understand what was going on, but he did know that if a person lied once, you should call everything they said into question. Quietly, he made his way into the bathroom. He had to use the toilet pretty badly, even if he didn't know what else he was planning to do that day.

Quickly he used the toilet, and went to the sink to wash his hands. Glancing down at the soap bubbles lathering his hands, he noticed an ivory handled knife laying next the sink. It held his attention, almost in a trance. Harry finished washing his hands, and hastily dried them. He picked up the knife.

It was beautiful. The white handle was old, he could tell, but it was pure. The blade was untarnished, gleaming brilliantly. And Harry didn't have to touch it to know that the blade was razor sharp.

Harry seemed to hear a voice in the back of his head, Snape's voice, say, "I didn't feel that I was worth anything, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. So, I took a knife, and I would cut myself."

Well that aptly described how Harry felt at the moment. He didn't feel he was worth anything, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. Maybe...maybe cutting himself would make him feel better. He wasn't sure how, but he was desperate for something to numb the pain. It wasn't like one or two more scars on his body was really going to make that big a difference. His body had been used and ravened so much, so many times, for so many things, that it didn't matter what he did with it. There was no undoing what had been done to him.

Harry's hand gripped the handle of the knife with a sudden determination, and he put it in the pocket of his trousers, not unlike a certain boy a generation ago used to do.

He left the bathroom, with the plan that he would leave the chambers and find some deserted part of the castle to hide away and do what he needed to do. At some level, Harry knew that he wasn't supposed to harm himself. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do. But he still wanted it, because it was his only offer of relief at the moment. And so he wasn't going to do it in Snape's chambers, because buried somewhere deep, Harry didn't want to disappoint Snape even now. Somehow, doing something that Snape would disapprove of outside of Snape's chambers was less wrong than doing them here.

Harry opened the door to the hallway, and slipped out quietly, closing the door behind him. He knew a bit about the layout of the castle, since Snape had explained it to him with a map before the sorting feast. Thankfully, he realized, no one was in sight of the door, and so he had a perfect chance to find a deserted hallway.

.oO-Oo.

Harry had found the spot he wanted. He was just settling down next to one of the walls and he had just begun to roll his left sleeve up. What was that? He'd heard someone, he was sure. Rolling his sleeve back down, Harry stuck the knife back in his pocket. There was no where to hide himself, so he would have to take his chances with whoever was coming. Because someone was definitely coming. He knew how to recognize the sound of footsteps, and these were definitely those.

.oO-Oo.

Albus Dumbledore had placed a spell on Severus' chambers. If Harry ever left, a warning alarm would be set off to notify him. True to its purpose, the alarm had gone off. Having cast a point-me charm, Albus began to search the castle for Harry. As his wand got warmer, he knew he was getting closer. Finally, he was almost upon where Harry was. Discontinuing the charm, he proceeded to an old deserted hallway. This was wonderful. No one would be witness to anything that transpired between himself and Harry.

Sure enough, Harry was sitting on the floor of the hallway.

"Mr. Potter?" Albus said kindly.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry responded, putting all the false bravado he could into his voice. Of course he remembered the man with the long white beard and the half moon spectacles. He'd only heard the speech he gave at the sorting feast and then been dragged into his office. He knew Snape didn't trust the man, but then, maybe that was good enough reason why he should.

"I'm glad to see you out and about," Albus said. Honestly, he couldn't imagine why Harry was in a deserted hallway by himself, but he bet that this wasn't something that Severus had allowed. "I trust you're feeling some better since the sorting feast?"

"Yes, sir," Harry lied.

"That's wonderful, Harry. Come along. There's something I want to show you."

"Yes, sir," Harry said again. He got up and followed Albus down the hallway, and through some other deserted passageways. It was in his best interest that Ablus use normally unused ways of traffic. Finally, after a long walk, Albus slowed, and gestured Harry into another hallway.

"I take it you're out without Professor Snape's knowledge?" Albus said, looking into Harry's eyes.

"No, sir," Harry said. "Professor Snape knows." Albus grinned at him.

"I don't think so," he said, his eyes twinkling. "But tell you what - this will be our little secret alright? You can come here if you ever want to leave the chambers. This can be your little home away from home. No one comes here, and you'll be perfectly safe. Professor Snape doesn't have to know."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Why are you out?"

"Just needed some time," Harry said, shrugging.

"Alright, that's fine," Albus said. "Have a good time, whatever you're doing." He patted Harry on the head, not noticing the flinch Harry gave away at the touch.

.oO-Oo.

Harry sat down again, across from a large mirror. He looked up and saw himself in the mirror. There was something mystical about the mirror, and it drew Harry to itself. Once again postponing his original purpose in leaving the chambers, Harry got up and looked at himself in the mirror. But wait! He wasn't alone! Snape was in the mirror behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, but when he looked, he was truly alone.

When he looked back, he saw Snape again, yes, but he also saw his mother, his father, Draco, Hermione, Neville and Ron. He saw them all around him, giving him hugs. They all were smiling at him, and he looked happy.

Harry wasn't stupid. He knew that was what he wanted more than anything else in the world. He wanted love. He wanted to be worthy of Snape. He wanted his parents back. And he wanted his friends to care about him. In the mirror, the little boy who looked like him (but very clearly wasn't him), had all of those. He knew that that little boy could never be him - he could never have those things.

As the depression that clawed at Harry's heart took a deeper hold, Harry sat down where he couldn't see the mirror. That way, he wouldn't fall under its spell again. He could get the relief he had come for instead of more guilt and torture. He took the knife out of his pocket and laid it beside him. Rolling up his sleeve again, he looked at the scars he had put there at his uncle's instructions. Now he was doing it voluntarily. What sort of a sick freak was he, anyway? Everything his uncle had said was true.

Closing his eyes, because he couldn't stand to see, he grabbed the knife and drew it across his arm. He gasped as the knife broke his skin. It was painful, that was for sure, but it didn't hurt like it had when Uncle Vernon had made him do the very same thing. This pain, this was a distraction. It hurt, but it was because it hurt that he could think about something else, something besides how worthless he was.

He cut a second time, gasping again. He began to quiver with anticipation. He was finding his relief. It was sick, he knew. It was twisted, he knew. But it only reflected what he was, and not doing it didn't make him any less sick or twisted. For a third time, he drew the knife across his skin. And for a third time he gasped, still eyes closed.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" suddenly rang out in the hallway. Harry's eyes snapped open, and he dropped the knife as a hand closed tightly around his wrist.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed as he tried to squeeze himself into the wall.

"Look, I know you're here, and I know what you were doing," Draco said. "There's no reason to be scared." Draco crouched on his heels across from Harry, not releasing him.

"Leave me alone," Harry muttered. What did Draco know anyway?

"I know a lot." Harry winced as he realized he'd said the last sentence aloud.

"It's okay," Draco continued. "I know a lot, Harry."

"Go away. Please."

"No. I won't go away. Not now."

"Did Dumbledore send you?"

"What? No!"

"Why are you here?"

"Because...the mirror."

"Oh."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I saw the mirror."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing."

"Aw, now, don't lie to me. If you won't tell me what you saw, tell me why you're cutting."

"I saw my mom and dad, and Professor Snape, and you, Ron, Hermione, and Neville." Harry really didn't want to talk about what he'd been caught doing.

"Okay. I saw you too. We were friends, and you were happy."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Draco insisted. "Now what's the cutting all about?"

"You didn't want to see me," Harry mumbled.

"What? It's not like that at all!"

"Yes, it is. Professor asked you all to come see me. You didn't want to come."

"And who told you that?"

"Ron."

"Why that little - " Draco caught himself. "Look, he invited us down there. We didn't have to go. I'd asked him about visiting you anyway. We only showed up because we wanted to."

"But you shouldn't want to," Harry choked out.

"Why not?" Draco challenged.

"If you knew - "

"I do."

"What?" Harry whispered, his voice deathly quiet, but surprisingly even.

"I know."

"You know what?"

"I know what happened to you. I know what your relatives did. And I don't care. Well, I do, but it doesn't affect who you are. Uncle Severus just wanted to help you by asking us down there to see you. We all really wanted to come. You think Hermione would have left her books if she didn't want to? You think Neville would have ventured into the snake's lair if he didn't? You think Ron would have swallowed his pride if he didn't? You think I'd be telling you this if I didn't?"

"How?"

"How what?"

"How do you know?" Draco shrugged.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Professor Snape told you, didn't he?"

"No!" Draco said. "He didn't tell me anything! Honest!"

"Then how do you know?"

"My dad told me."

"And Professor Snape told him."

"Well...I don't know," Draco dodged. "Death Eaters have ways of finding things out. Your relatives are in custody of the Ministry, aren't they? Well, my father could have read the papers on them and found out that way."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'Oh.' Don't jump to conclusions. Gosh, just relax a little."

"Okay."

"You were cutting because you thought we didn't like you? And you thought I'd leave if I knew about the abuse?"

"Yeah," Harry reluctantly admitted. "Do the others know?"

"No," Draco said. "I'm the only kid of a Death Eater of the lot of them. How would you expect them to know?" Harry shrugged in response. "Look, we need to get you cleaned up and back to Uncle Severus' chambers before he knows you're missing."

"You won't tell him?"

"No, but I think you should," Draco said.

"But - why?"

"What was the last thing you said to him?"

"That - that I didn't want his help. And he should leave me alone."

"Yeah. I thought so. You really should go make up with him. I mean, think about it. You wouldn't like it if one of us told you to go away, now, would you? Heck, you're here cutting yourself over that when we didn't even say it! How do you think he must be feeling?"

"So you see why you should tell him?"

"I think so," Harry said.

"Come on," Draco said. "I have a free period, and I know a good bathroom to clean you up in. It's an old girl's bathroom. The only thing in there is a ghost, and Moaning Myrtle won't tell anyone."


	20. Thank Goodness It's Friday

Draco had brought Harry into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but thankfully she didn't seem to be in at the moment. Someone had probably flushed her down the toilet again, Draco surmised wryly.

Being the son of a Death Eater had its certain advantages, Draco realized. He'd been exposed to a lot of the darker areas of life. He knew about horrible things. He hadn't lived in a bubble like some of the others. Death Eaters didn't believe that sheltering their children helped their children. If they didn't know about these things, how were they to be expected not to fall into them? Well, a lot of them did anyway, but it wasn't for ignorance at least. Knowledge was never a bad thing. Only what you could do with it could be good or bad.

It was also a good thing, Draco realized, that he could piece a sobbing person's story together. He was able to make connections Harry thought obvious, but weren't, since he could understand how Harry thought. But there were still things they needed to talk about.

"How in the world did you leave the chambers?" Draco asked as he brought Harry to a sink and turned on the water.

"I left," Harry said, shrugging.

"You mean...you just...walked out the door?" Draco responded. He began to cup water in his hand and pour it over Harry's bleeding wounds, washing them out.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, and then went silent. After a moment, he looked like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't.

"What?" Draco demanded, in a no-nonsense tone.

"I don't want to tell Professor Snape," Harry suddenly sobbed. "How can I? I can't. It's just - I can't."

"Yes you can, and you have to," Draco said, narrowing his eyes. He wasn't going to deal with Harry's problems alone. He knew he needed Uncle Severus' help, and he knew he needed Harry to be the one to own up for his own actions.

"No," Harry said. "I can't. It won't happen."

"Look, Harry," Draco said, stopping what he was doing and looking Harry in the eyes. "I don't know the spells to heal you and keep this from getting infected. You want to get an infection and bleed all over everything?" He watched Harry's eyes go wide. Well, he didn't like scaring Harry, but somehow, Draco thought that this might be the best way to deal with him. "I didn't think so," he continued. "Who knows the spells? Well, every teacher, and a lot of the upper years. But you don't want to go to any of the other teachers or the students, do you? So who does that leave?"

"Professor Snape," Harry mumbled.

"10 points to Slytherin," Draco muttered back, beginning to wash out Harry's wounds again.

"What?" Harry suddenly asked.

"Nothing," Draco said. "You going to tell him? For real, this time."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell him." Harry's eyes began to well up with tears.

"Oh, what's wrong now?" Draco sighed.

"I - I don't know," Harry said. "I don't know how to tell him."

"Let me guess - you don't know how to tell him, because you don't understand it yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know why you came up there to do it yourself. You felt terrible so you did. But you can't explain it to yourself. So how can you explain it to him?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry said.

"See? I know lots of things. Don't worry, I'm sure Uncle Severus will understand. I'm sure you don't have to explain everything." Draco had no idea of Severus' own difficulties, but he did know that his godfather had dealt with these sort of things before in other students.

"I don't understand something," Harry said suddenly.

"What don't you understand?" Draco said, pulling his own Slytherin scarf off his neck and wrapping it around Harry's arm.

"What are you doing?!" Harry exclaimed, pulling his arm back.

"I'm wrapping your arm so that you don't leave a trail of blood behind you and I get accused of murdering someone," Draco responded. "Give me your arm." Harry swallowed and nervously began to hold his arm out again.

"You can use my scarf," Harry responded, loosening it with his other hand.

"Don't be daft," Draco said. "Let me use mine." Before Harry could start objecting again, Draco started wrapping his scarf around Harry's arm. Tying a knot with the two ends, Draco looked at his make-shift bandage quite proudly. "There!" he exclaimed, smiling.

"Why?" Harry's gaze bored into Draco deeper than Draco would like to have admitted. The depth of the pain in Harry's eyes was astonishing. Draco realized that he was probably in over his head with Harry.

"Why what?" Draco replied.

"This," Harry said, gesturing to the scarf-bandage. "Why?"

"Because you were bleeding?" Draco suggested.

"But you said you know," Harry said, as though that were enough of an argument.

"Know what?" Draco asked, although he knew what Harry meant. He wanted to heard Harry call it abuse.

"Well, you know," Harry shrugged. "About my relatives." Draco inwardly sighed as Harry had avoided the dreaded word. Apparently he wasn't ready to face the idea that it was abuse.

"Yeah, I know," Draco said. "So what? Explain it to me."

"But - but - " Harry stammered. "You can't see?"

"Pretend I'm the stupidest, most oblivious person you've ever met, and I can't understand a thing unless you explain it to me," Draco suggested.

"I don't understand why you care!" Harry exploded suddenly, although he kept his voice quiet. "How can you care? I'm nothing! I'm a freak and fool. I'm sick and twisted. You're not, and why would you want to spend any effort on me? You can have better friends! Why bother?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Draco said. "Slow down. You're not any of those things. Got that? You've just had a really rough start at life, to put it mildly. How can someone not care? It'd take a pretty awful person not to care."

"But you can have any friends you want," Harry protested. "Why me?"

"Because - " Draco cut off trying to put his answer into words. "Well because you're - well, I guess..."

"See, you can even explain it!"

"Hey, give me a minute!" Draco protested hotly. "It's because I want to help you, alright? It's because, that by an accident of birth, it's you sitting in the corner, scared and cutting, instead of me. If I'd your stupid relatives, I'd probably be doing the same thing you are. So I'm going to see to it that you're taken care of. I wouldn't want to me the boy in the corner and have no one come to save me. Now, care to do something about it?" Draco put his hands on his hips and glared at Harry. Harry's eyes were big again, and he shook his head mutely. "Good. Now that we got that straightened out," Draco continued, relaxing his stance, and putting his hand on Harry's shoulder, noticing but ignoring the involuntary flinch, "let's get you back to your chambers."

Wordlessly, they walked together to their destination. Draco began to think. He really didn't have that period free. He was going to be in so much trouble with McGonnagall for missing Transfiguration. There was no way he was going to give an accounting to her about his actions that period, and he was going to lose a pile of house points for this. He really didn't care though. He could explain to his head of house easily enough, and this more important than house points. Housemates always came ahead of house points.

Well, he'd have probably been a few minutes late for Transfiguration anyway. He had wandered down into that forgotten hallway because of the Mirror. He'd found it on an exploring venture a few days ago, and he'd fallen under it's spell. He kept wanting to go back. He had a hard time keeping it out of his mind. Sitting in front of it was dangerous, he knew, but he still was bound to it. It was addictive, he thought. Like a drug. Just to go back and sit there, watching, even though he knew he shouldn't, even though he didn't really want to. But he did want to. Whatever.

What was a mirror like that doing where students could just find it anyway? Draco inwardly sneered at the person who had put it there. He knew it was a minor problem compared to problems like Harry's, but still, the Mirror was causing him problems in his life. What sort of a fool would put a thing like that in a school? It was dangerous to anyone who found it. And it was right there to be found, even if it was in a lost hallway. It was a good thing he'd been there that time at least. He'd found Harry and been able to help him. It made Draco feel rather warm and proud that he'd been able to do something good that day.

"I mean it, you know," Draco quietly said.

"What?" Harry inquired.

"That you're my friend," Draco said. "And that I really do care."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem."

"You don't think I'm - dirty or anything?"

"Heck, no," Draco said, taken aback. "You're perfectly fine. What's been done to you doesn't change who or what you are. Anyway, we're here," he said gesturing to his godfather's chambers. "You better be getting back. And so should I. My next class will be starting soon. I'll see about coming down tomorrow. It's Saturday, and well, I don't have any classes. And Uncle Severus did not ask me to come tomorrow either. I'm inviting myself over tomorrow." Harry smiled at him.

"Thanks." Draco nodded his acknowledgement.

"See you later," he said, and smiled at Harry in return, and turned down the hallway. Harry turned to the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. After all, it was locked, and he couldn't open it, either by magic or with a key. So, swallowing his fear and cursing himself for not foreseeing this very problem, he knocked on the door.

.oO-Oo.

It was getting late, and Nitty hadn't seen hide nor hair of Master Harry. She'd fixed a breakfast for him, and while he usually slept later than Master Severus did, he was up by this time every morning. She walked into Master Harry's bedroom, and found the bed unmade, and Master Harry not in it. His day clothes were gone, and his pajamas laid on the bed.

She rushed around the chambers, looking and calling for Master Harry. But there was no answer. Bordering on a panic attack, she popped out of the chambers and appeared outside the potions lab where she knew Master Severus was. She knocked on the door.

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat back, watching the seventh years making their potions. It was a small class, and they all knew what they were doing, so thankfully he could relax a little bit. He was tired, and he didn't want to have to pay attention. Of course, in the back of his mind, instinctively, he was watching for any disasters that would happen, and he was also prepared to deal with them should they occur.

He hated himself. Oh, goodness, did he hate himself! Unconsciously, his right hand moved to his left forearm. Just two more scars to add to the list of other injuries. He had a perfect record there of all his mistakes, all his failures. That was why he had healed himself with a simple spell or potion. He believed in the consequences of actions, and this, the lingering pain and threat of infection, was the consequences of his stupid actions the night before. His physical records of his mistakes on that forearm even included his Dark Mark.

He wondered what would happen if someone didn't have their left forearm. What if, accidentally of course, someone lost it? Would the Dark Lord still be able to control that person? Of course, Severus knew he would never take such an action against himself. He had to face the consequences of taking the Dark Mark, not sidestep them. He might have done something incredibly stupid the night before, and he might have cried like a child, but he was enough of a man to be able to deal with what happened after his mistakes. He could at least take some solace in that.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. With a noise of annoyance, Severus got up from his desk and walked over to the door. People knew better than to annoy him while he was teaching unless it was truly something of catastrophic proportions. As he opened the door, he didn't see anyone there.

"Master Severus!" a small voice called out, and he looked down at Nitty.

"See you don't blow anything up while I'm out for a moment," he snapped at his students. If Nitty was making an appearance at this time, then it was serious and he needed to speak to her. "What is it?" he asked when he had stepped out and closed the door.

"It's Master Harry, sir," Nitty explained quickly. "He's not there!"

"Not there?" Severus repeated.

"Yes, sir," Nitty confirmed. "He's missing, and I can't find him anywhere!"

"Blasted boy," Severus muttered under his breath. There was no way he was going to be able to go back to teaching classes now. "I'll be down there momentarily," he told Nitty. "Go back and wait to see if Harry comes back."

"Yes, sir," Nitty nodded and disappeared. Severus stalked back into his classroom, but didn't walk far from the doorway. He took out his wand and with a flick of his wrist, the potions the students had been working on disappeared.

"Class dismissed," Severus said, as though that were an explanation. Well, it was enough for his students, because they immediately began to pack up without question. Severus quickly spelled a message on the door, canceling the rest of his classes for the day. His students certainly wouldn't mind finding that note there, he thought. He'd just have to find a way to make up the work in another class.

Quickly, he made his way down to his chambers. He began a thorough search of them, looking for any clue as to where Harry might have gone. But he found none. It had been some time, stalking around his chambers. Then there was a quiet knock at the door. Severus' heart leaped into his mouth as he hoped that it was Harry at the door. It certainly wasn't a knock he knew, but then only Minerva or the Headmaster ever came to visit him here. Still trying to calm himself, he reached out and opened the door. There stood Harry.

"Hi," Harry murmured, lowering his head and looking up at him through lowered eyelashes.

"Harry," Severus breathed, more relieved than anything. "Don't do that to me again."

"Sorry, sir," Harry muttered.

"Harry, what happened?" Severus suddenly asked, catching sight of the make-shift scarf-bandage.

"Um..." Harry stalled. He pulled the ivory knife from his pocket and handed it to Severus, swallowing hard.

"Where did you get that?" Severus asked guardedly. He was appalled. How did Harry have his knife? He didn't want to think of what this meant. Harry had his knife, and his arm was clearly bandaged. Could he have - ? No.

"I found it in the bathroom." Severus wanted to - he didn't know what he wanted to do. Now that Harry brought it up, he remembered he hadn't put his knife away last night. His negligence had put Harry in danger. His stupid actions the night before had extended beyond himself, once again. Setting the knife aside, Severus reached his hand out to Harry.

"Let me see your arm," he said evenly. Harry hesitated for a moment, but then held his arm out. Severus knelt on one knee as he began to untie the crude knots. Unwrapping the scarf, Severus saw the three parallel cuts, not unlike his own from the previous night. Inwardly grimacing, he took out his wand.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his voice suddenly panicked, as he pulled his arm away.

"I'm going to heal you," Severus said. There was no reason why Harry had to suffer for his mistakes, Severus reasoned, and so he would heal Harry's wounds. The boy had already suffered enough. Nothing he did would make Severus not heal him.

"I - Please don't," Harry said.

"And why not?" Severus asked, again taking hold of Harry's arm. He positioned the wand above the cuts, but didn't recite the spell, waiting for Harry's answer.

"Because I did it to myself, sir," Harry said. "And - and - " Harry's voice broke and he began to hitch his breaths. Tears began to run down his cheeks.

"And you think you should take the consequences because it was your own choice," Severus finished quietly. "Just let me heal you anyway," he said, still quiet. "You've suffered enough." He muttered a spell, and Harry's wounds knitted back together. Three small pink scars remained.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, looking at what remained of that morning's escapade.

"As well you should be," Severus replied. "Why did you do it?" Harry shrugged.

"You told me that you did it sometimes, and I thought it might help," Harry offered hopefully. Severus brought his hand to his forehead as he realized what he had done.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated, seeing Severus' dismay.

"I know you are," Severus said, trying to keep control of himself. "Fine," he said, becoming resolved. "I'll transfigure the knife into something else. That way, it won't be a temptation to you anymore." Or myself, he thought. In a moment, the knife had become a blank notebook. "Here," he said, handing Harry the book. "I want you to use this whenever you feel like you want to cut. Write out your feelings. Force yourself to put it into words."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, taking the book in his hands.

"I won't read it, I promise," Severus said, closing his hands over Harry's. "Unless you want me to."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. It was fitting, Severus thought, that the instrument Harry had used to harm himself should be the instrument that would help him through his depression.

"Every time you cut yourself, you let your uncle win," Severus continued. "Your uncle trained the ability to harm yourself into you, and now when you do it, you're letting what he did to you affect you now. Please, don't let your uncle win. You're in control of your actions. Make sure you are the winner now."

"Yes, sir."

"Whose scarf is this?" Severus asked, releasing Harry's hands, and picking up the forgotten scarf from the floor.

"Draco's," Harry replied.

"How did that happen?"

"Draco found me," Harry shrugged, "and he took me to a bathroom and cleaned the mess up." Harry was careful to leave out the bit about Dumbledore. It didn't seem right to tell him.

"So Draco knows," Severus said.

"Yes," Harry said. "He knows about everything."

"He does?" Severus said, arching an eyebrow. Of course, he, Severus, knew that Draco knew, but it wouldn't do to tell Harry that. Whatever Draco had said, it didn't seem that Harry was taking the news particularly hard.

"Yes, he does," Harry confirmed. "He said his father told him."

"I see," Severus said, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"He said his father could have found out through Ministry records," Harry continued.

"Yes, that's possible," Severus said. "Lucius Malfoy is a very influential figure at the Ministry and undoubtedly has access to countless documents."

"And Draco still helped me."

"Yes, I see that he did."

"But he knew."

"Yes, he did. Is there some connection between these two facts?"

"I just don't understand."

"You have two options, Harry," Severus said. "Either you can continue not understanding, or you can accept that what your relatives did has no baring on whether your friends will help you."Harry nodded.

"But Mr. Nott - "

"He has other issues with you," Severus dismissed. "It has nothing to do with your relatives."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"You need to accept the fact that your past doesn't change who you are now," Severus said, almost wincing at his own words as he thought about applying them to himself. "You need to accept the fact that your friend won't reject you for it either. None of them will. But especially not Draco. He can see that you will be a very good friend. And Hermione, Neville, and Ron also probably see it as well. You will be the best friend that any of them can have."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, smiling a little at the words.

"I know you have a hard time believing it now," Severus continued, "but you're special, and the others really do want to be your friend. I didn't lie to you when I said that they wanted to come. Did Draco explain that to you?"

"Yes, he did," Harry replied. "He said he wanted to come again tomorrow, and that you hadn't invited him."

"No, I hadn't," Severus said, surprised at Draco's confidence in inviting himself over. Perhaps it was for the best though, since Severus honestly had no previous warning of this. "He is more than welcome to come."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said.

"You're welcome," Severus replied with a nod of his head.

.oO-Oo.

Draco sauntered down the hallway, making his way to History of Magic, when he almost bumped into Professor McGonnagall.

"And do you care to account for your lack of presence in Transfiguration this morning?" she demanded.

"Not really, Professor," Draco said, with his characteristic smirk.

"So you just decided to play the truant today, did you?" Draco shrugged.

"Sorry, Professor," he said.

"Detention tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy."

"What time?" he replied.

"All day. I will not have you thinking you're better than everyone else. Skipping class is not an option for you, no matter who your father is."

"But - but - " Draco protested.

"But what, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I have something else to do tomorrow!"

"Then you'll just have to rethink your plans," McGonnagall replied.

"But it's important!"

"I don't care if you're meeting with the Minister himself," she replied. "Detention tomorrow. Or would you prefer I take house points besides?"

"No, Professor," Draco said. "What time?"

"Eight o'clock," McGonnagall replied.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

Draco began to curse his luck as he continued to History of Magic. If only it had been History he missed. Binns would never have given detention for missing class. He wouldn't even notice if one of his students was missing! Now how was he going to explain this to Harry? He'd told Harry he didn't have any class that period. What he'd meant was that he didn't have any class that he intended on going to. But now he wasn't going to be able to come by the next day, and Harry, Draco was sure, would feel abandoned.

He could try to go see him tonight. But he didn't want to walk into anything that his godfather was doing that night with Harry. Undoubtedly they would have a few issues to resolve. But one way or another, he wasn't going to be able to see Harry tomorrow if McGonnagall was going to stick to her stated plan. And he didn't see any sign that she wouldn't either.

Draco felt a wave of apprehension build inside of him. After the lecture he gave Harry about caring, it would look really bad to not show up for any reason - even detention. He doubted Harry even knew the meaning of the word detention. After all, what typically happened in detention would be the sort of thing Harry wouldn't even recognize as punishment.

.oO-Oo.

Harry spent the rest of the day in the chambers with Professor Snape. His arm was healed, and the knife was gone. Like Draco had promised, the Professor hadn't expected explanations he couldn't give. His professor had taken him back, despite what he had said and done the night before and that morning. It just impressed upon Harry the wrongness of what he had done. He had told his professor to go away, and then he had hurt himself.

Somehow, Draco's knowledge of how he had been treated didn't bother him as much as he thought it should. Maybe it was that Draco didn't reject him for it. Draco still accepted him, and still helped him.

Harry found himself wishing to return to the Mirror. He wanted to go back and watch as everyone loved him. He wanted to believe that Professor Snape and Draco cared about him. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to be confident of unconditional acceptance. But the feeling was so foreign to him, Harry wasn't even sure that he'd imagined it right.

Professor Snape had been quiet the whole day. Well, he was always quiet, but he hadn't asked many questions, and he'd just been there. They'd been together, but there hadn't been much conversation. The professor just was grading papers, and Harry sat down to read his school books.

Harry just felt confused and conflicted. What he had done was worthy of rejection, he was sure. But it hadn't happened. He just wanted to forget that the whole episode had happened. Then he felt his eyelids get heavy. His head began to nod as he continued to try to focus on his school.

Shortly, he found himself in the land of dreams.

.oO-Oo.

Severus had stuck to his note on his classroom, and didn't return for anymore classes. He figured Harry needed someone at that point, even if he couldn't figure out anything to say. He hoped just being with Harry could reassure him.

He felt elated, much more than he felt he should, that Harry had come back to him in the end. Perhaps the thin and delicate bond that they had wasn't quite as thin and delicate as he thought it was initially. He was grateful that everything had worked out as well as it had. Severus thought of several possible outcomes which could have been worse.

Ah, Lily, he thought, he was doing such a terrible job of child raising! Lily. He thought back to the dream that he'd had a few nights back, and the last thing she'd told him. "How can Harry ever hope to trust a man who doesn't even trust himself?" He really would have to learn to trust himself, he figured, before he could be sure of Harry's trust. But it wasn't like he had done anything to cause him to trust himself. His history with Harry was littered with mistakes and things he should or shouldn't have done.

He would definitely need to have a talk with Draco. It was dangerous for him to have told Harry that he knew. But it had turned out alright, and he wanted to thank Draco for helping Harry when he couldn't. It was definitely a stroke of luck that Draco had happened upon Harry.

Then there was a faint scratching at Severus' door, so he got up from his grading to check the door. At his feet was Draco's black cat, with a note tied around the collar. Curious, Severus took the note from the cat's collar, and the cat darted away. He opened up the parchment.

I won't be able to come tomorrow after all. Sorry.

Draco Malfoy

That was all it said. It wasn't even addressed. Severus wasn't sure if it was meant for him or Harry. But he would have to inform Harry if nothing else. Returning to the main room, he noticed Harry was asleep. Well, any announcement about this could certainly wait until he woke up. Harry was undoubtedly exhausted. Severus couldn't imagine him having had a good night's sleep, and the combine it with stress and loss of blood, Harry definitely needed a nap. He'd tell Harry the news when he woke up.


	21. Sins of the Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In memory of a girl I knew who saw her father commit suicide. May she find the peace she deserves.

"Harry," Severus whispered, touching Harry's shoulder. "Harry, it's time for supper."

"Hmm?" Harry moaned, as he was roused to consciousness.

"It's time for supper," Severus repeated. Harry's eyes snapped open, and he sat up. Harry's jaw worked up and down, but he didn't say anything. "Is everything alright?" Severus asked, concerned. He didn't know what was going through Harry's mind. He didn't want to speculate either. Blast Harry, and his way of not telling him what was on his mind! The boy needed to tell him what was wrong. He was really getting tired of having to guess everything.

"Um..." Harry paused. Well, at least it was a vocalization. Severus tried not to roll his eyes at the lack of eloquence Harry was showing.

"Please, do continue," he prompted, letting a slight sarcastic drawl creep into his words.

"It's time for supper?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I do believe that's what I said," Severus said, crossing his arms. "What's wrong with that statement?"

"Um..." Harry paused, returning to his previous annoying fillers. "I didn't think - I mean, you're going to let me eat supper? With you?" Harry immediately winced as soon as he had the question out. Severus let his shoulders droop slightly as he sighed in exasperation.

"And why, young man, do you think I would not let you eat supper with me?"

"Because, well - " Harry stammered. Severus narrowed his eyes. Harry's hand moved to his arm, and he dropped his gaze. "Well, I messed up, didn't I?"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Severus sighed, sitting next to Harry, who quickly pulled away, scooting to the arm of the couch. "When will you learn? What will I have to do to make you understand?" Despite the weak physical and vocal protests, Severus gently took Harry by the shoulders. "I will never withhold food from you, ever, for anything. I may be an impatient, rude, and generally unlikable dungeon bat, but I'm not totally evil. Of course I'll feed you." Severus pulled Harry into an embrace. Harry shuttered once, but let Severus do what he wanted. He should have known better than to think Harry would meet him with any resistance. Harry would let him do whatever he wanted, without any word of protest. Severus ran his fingers through Harry's mop of hair once before releasing him.

"But I messed up," Harry argued, apologetically.

"Yes," Severus said. "And if everyone went without their meals when they messed up, there would be a great deal of food going to waste." Harry swallowed, and Severus noticed his body was as tense as a drawn bowstring. "How can I assure you that I won't hurt you?" Harry just shook his head. He caught Harry in another embrace, trying to communicate someway that there wasn't going to be any repercussions for his early actions. "I will never harm you, Harry. Everything will be alright. You don't have to go through it alone."

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered.

"I can only help you as much as you let me help you," Severus whispered. "You need to let me help you."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, still muttering.

"It's alright," Severus replied.

"About last night," he continued. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Severus repeated. "Everything will be fine."

"You'll still - you still love me?"

"Of course I do," Severus snorted. If love was what one could call his protectiveness over Harry. Well, of course it was love. He'd do anything to keep Harry safe, and that was what love was, wasn't it? Putting the good of someone else over your own? If that was what love really was, then yes, he did love Harry. And there wasn't anything Harry could do to stop it. "Of course I still love you. That should go without saying."

"But what if you stopped? What if I did something and you stopped loving me?"

"It can't happen," Severus said. "Like when I said the hat couldn't not sort you, I can't stop caring about you. And no one would know my mind better than I do. Now, supper?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded.

.oO-Oo.

Severus couldn't believe - not for a minute - that Harry was too far gone to save. If he let himself believe that, everything was already lost. There was something left of Harry. If he could only reach it. He needed to be able to reach Harry's soul - his spirit - and communicate with it. To convince Harry that he was, in fact, quite safe, and no one would harm him.

But the repeated mantra in the back of his head was Lily's words - "How can Harry ever hope to trust a man who doesn't even trust himself?" He resolved he would trust himself more in the future. He could be the man that he needed to be in order to save Harry from his past.

There was a small voice of reality that screamed in the back of his head, clamored for his attention, that he needed to be aware of the fact that Harry would never heal. Even if he didn't believe it, he needed to be aware that not all stories had a happy ending. He was a hopeless romantic when it came to that, he knew. He'd lived, as a child, hoping for some kind of a happy ending to his misery with his father. He had read fairy tales - both wizard and muggle - and he had seen how time and again the children in these stories lived in conditions like his own. They were always saved by someone, or something miraculous happened, and their situations were alleviated.

The only relief he had ever gotten from his father was his school year. Alright, it was magic that got him out of the house for nine months at a time. But the very same magic that saved him was the magic that caused the problem in the first place. And then it had only ended with the death of his father. It hadn't been a happy ending at all.

His father came stumbling in, drunk as ever, and his mother was out, working at whatever odd jobs she could pick up. Honorable ones, of course. Sewing and cleaning. So Severus was alone in the house when his father tripped over the ledge at the front door.

"Bloody...door," Tobias Snape muttered, as he caught himself on the door handle. Severus came out from where he had been hiding, waiting for his father. Severus knew his father would want to be greeted when he came home, much as Severus would like to creep into a corner and be ignored. But he was eighteen, not eight. An adult, by both wizard and muggle law. He could deal with greeting his father.

"Hello," he said, hesitantly, holding his hands behind his back - what would become his default position for everything.

"Severus!" his father barked at him, and he tried not to wince at the accursed word - his name. Whenever his father used his name, it couldn't be good. He'd grown to hate his name once he had learned that.

"Yes, sir?" he replied. He set his jaw to take whatever his father would do to him now. It wasn't like he could move out. Where would he go? He didn't want to ask any of his friends to take him in. He couldn't face the thought of crawling to any of them, asking for pity, begging for a home. And he didn't have the means to live on his own. He was still trapped, just as trapped as he always was, just now he was older. And he didn't have the escape of school any longer. He felt sick to his stomach as he waited for what his father wanted of him. Sometimes it was just as simple as having him stand there and listen to a rant about what a worthless person he was. But no matter how many times he heard it, the words stung every time.

"You - you freak," his father slurred, coming to stand in front of him - too close for comfort - but Severus wouldn't back down. It was probably a Gryffindor streak, he thought, but his pride wouldn't let him step back, no matter how much he wanted to cow in front of his father. Backing down had never helped before. He stilled the quivering in his limbs, and took a deep breath. Here it came. The rant.

"You're a disappointment." His father's voice was slurred, yes, but cold. In vine veritas, was old saying. In wine, truth. Was whiskey really that much different? This was what his father really thought of him, filter removed. Well, his father never had had much of a filter, but that was beside the point. "You've never done anything but let me down! Why did I even bother to conceive you? You're just the incarnate reminder to me of the mistake of marrying your mother. You're the physical - thing - that I have to look at every day, as a living statement of how I was foolish enough to marry that whore and create you. You've done nothing. Nothing. You'll never be anyone. I don't know why you're even still here."

"Neither do I," Severus replied, quietly, looking at the ground, but still not stepping back. He couldn't hold back his shaking any more, but he hoped his father was too drunk to notice. He wasn't sure why he was doing this - making his stand now. It just was happening, and he couldn't control his mouth. Just like his father. "I don't know why I'm here either. If you regret me that much, why don't you just end it now? Why don't you just kill me now? Admit it, that's what you've wanted to do for the past eighteen years."

His father shoved him aside, and Severus stumbled. His father huffed at him, and left. It wasn't like his father to not respond when provoked like that. Usually it ended up badly for him, but he didn't care right now. He was sick of everything. He'd grown up, and he knew that no one would rescue him like they did in the fairy tales. If he wanted to be saved, he'd have to save himself. His father stalked back, revolver in hand. Of course Severus knew what a revolver was and how it worked. His father lowered the revolver at Severus' head. Severus felt his heart rate increase. Well, he had provoked his father into this. He'd better not resist being shot, shouldn't he? He swallowed hard, and closed his eyes. He heard the safety go off the gun, and he began to hold his breath. How holding his breath was going to help, he didn't know. But it was what his instincts told him to do, so he did it.

He cracked an eye open when no shot was forthcoming. He shivered once, as he saw the barrel of the gun aimed right between his eyes. It was only a few inches away. It was close enough that if he tried to focus on the end of the gun, he would go cross eyed.

"Oh, dear God," he prayed silently, "Don't let it end this way." Suddenly the gun was taken away, and his father instead aimed it at his own temple.

"If I kill you," his father said evenly, "then I'll go to jail for murder. Why ever, I'll never know. But they'll have a hard time locking me away if I kill myself. I always knew you'd be the death of me. This way, I won't have to look at you anymore."

"No!" Severus screamed, as he tried to think of what to do. He began to rush at his father, to pull the gun away, but he wasn't fast enough. The gun went off, the bullet burying itself into his father's brain, killing him instantly. He looked into his father's eyes moments after the shot, which was a mistake that haunted him to the present. He saw the dead look in them, and then he saw them roll back as his father's body crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood quickly growing on the floor.

"No, no, no," Severus gasped, as he folded his hands and brought them to his lips. He'd wanted out, yes. He'd been sick of his life, yes. He wanted his father to leave him alone, to never talk to him again, yes. But he didn't want his father to commit suicide - to get away from him. Was he really that bad a son? That his father would take his own life? His breathing rate increased as he tried to hold back the tears that willed their way out. He wasn't sure if he was mourning his sorry excuse of a father, or wallowing in self-pity that he caused this. Whatever it was, he needed to report it. He didn't want his mother walking in to find the body of her dead husband in a puddle of blood at her son's feet.

He picked up the phone. Quickly, he dialed the police, and got someone on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hello," he said, his voice shaky. "My father - he shot himself."

"Is he alive?" the man on the other end asked.

"No, sir," Severus answered.

"Where do you live?" The policeman wasn't being harsh, in fact, he was being quite kind, Severus thought, but the questions were like salt in a fresh wound.

"Spinner's End," he said, and gave the address.

"And your name?"

"Severus Snape."

"We'll send someone out there right away. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't be," Severus said, and hung up.

He leaned against the wall, and sank to the floor, pulling his knees up, as he rested his head on them. Ah, if only his father had shot him. Maybe it would have been better, he thought. "I always knew you'd be the death of me. This way, I won't have to look at you anymore." His father's last words - burned into his mind forever. He'd never forget how his father said them, or the look in his father's eyes as he fell to the ground. He'd never forget seeing the pool of blood grow. He'd never forget how he had caused this. If only he hadn't provoked his father. If only. If only. His whole life was one giant "if only."

His whole body was shaking, and he wasn't making any attempt to hide it. He was in shock, as he stared at the dead body of his father. He rocked himself back and forth, like he used to do as a small child after his father had finished knocking him around. This time, though, his father hadn't laid a hand on him, yet he had managed to knock him harder than ever.

There was a knock on the door, and Severus numbly got up to answer it. There was a man in a uniform there as he opened the door.

"The Snape residence?"

"Yes, sir." His voice was devoid of any emotion or inflection.

"Your father?"

"Right this way, sir."

Not exactly what you'd call a fairy tale ending. Sometimes, though, he had to seek his refuge in the pages of a fairy tale. He needed to believe, sometimes, that there were such happy endings. That something like that was possible. And now was one of those times.

"Harry," Severus said as they began to eat the meal Nitty had laid out for them. It was just a light meal of fruits and vegetables, mainly. Easy for Harry to digest, and high in the vitamins and minerals he needed. "Draco won't be able to come tomorrow after all." He hoped Harry wouldn't take it too hard. Harry didn't have any reaction for a moment, and Severus wondered if Harry had even heard him.

"Alright," Harry said after another moment. Severus should have known Harry would have heard him. The boy had learned to hear quite well, having to hear orders, and hear sounds around his relative's house, learning to interpret them and deduce meanings from them.

"Don't be upset about it," Severus said. "I'm sure it was something quite serious for Draco. He sent a note with his cat. He wouldn't make plans with you and break them like this unless it was something he couldn't avoid."

"I'm sure," Harry said, but Severus noticed the effort in his voice.

"Look," Severus said, exasperated, "I'll go check with Draco after supper and see what will keep him busy tomorrow." Harry nodded, and they finished their meal in silence.

.oO-Oo.

That night, after supper, Severus pulled his cloak around him, and stalked out of the chambers down to the Slytherin common room. After repeating the password, the door opened immediately. He stepped into them, and found his students doing any variety of things, studying and writing essays, to reading, or playing games. But everyone stopped and silence fell as soon as he was over the threshold. It was like some strange magic announced his presence to every student there.

"Mr. Malfoy?" he said to the crowd as he scanned them. Everyone had stopped what they were doing when he came in. His presence could be very intimidating even to his own. But he liked it that way - he commanded their respect.

"Here!" A blonde head shot up from a table in the corner. Draco closed the book he had been reading and jammed it in his school bag. He picked it up and came over to where Severus was standing.

"I need to speak with you." They stepped out of the common room together, and Severus heard the standard chatter begin again as soon as he turned his back. Once they were outside the common room, with the door closed, Severus turned to Draco.

"And why can't you make it tomorrow?"

"I have detention?" Draco winced, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

"All day?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what did you do to get detention? All day?" Severus sounded exasperated. Not only did he not tolerate detentions for his students, (He supported the other professors in their discipline. He just didn't want there to be any cause for discipline.), but this one was coming at a most inconvenient time.

"I - I skipped Transfiguation. Sir," Draco swallowed. Severus raised his eyebrow.

"Do continue," he drawled.

"That was when I found Harry! I couldn't leave him, so I skipped class!"

"And I hope you didn't tell Professor McGonnagall what you had been doing?"

"No, sir," Draco said, shaking his blonde mop emphatically. "She thinks I was just taking advantage of who my father is."

"Alright," Severus said. "I will speak with her, and you will be able to visit Harry tomorrow. Come by in the afternoon, around two."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, smiling. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't think you're getting off though," Severus then growled. "As much as I appreciate your actions to Harry, I don't know why you were where you found him in the first place, but I intend to find out. Monday night, you have detention with me." Draco looked shocked for a moment, and then he hung his head.

"Yes, sir." Severus turned on his heel, making sure his cape billowed out behind him, leaving Draco to find his way back through the common room door and explain that conversation to his peers.

.oO-Oo.

"Minerva McGonnagall!" Severus called as he knocked on her chamber door. Alright, he wasn't nearly as upset as he was putting on. He understood that she should give a student detention when all the facts pointed to having simply skipped the class. He wouldn't even ask that Draco be let off of her punishment permanently. The door opened, and Minerva chuckled at him.

"Severus Snape!" she returned in a tone as mocking as his had been impatient. Severus decided to drop his facade then, since she apparently not buying it, and there was no one else around. He didn't have to keep his act up.

"I need to speak with you. Privately," he added.

"Of course," Minerva said, stepping aside and letting him in. She closed to door behind him, and looked at him expectantly. "What is it?"

"I need you to allow Draco to leave detention tomorrow," he said.

"I thought you were the most disciplinary professor here," she said, confused. "I hope you aren't asking for favors because he's your godson?"

"Absolutely not, woman!" he growled, this time genuine. "I'm not here for myself or for Draco. I'm here for Harry." Minerva gave him a confused look.

"Continue," she said.

"Draco missed his class because he was running an errand for me, in regards to Harry. It was rather unexpected, and I didn't have a chance to give him a note. While he was with Harry though, he promised that he would drop by and see him tomorrow. Harry had his heart set on seeing Draco tomorrow. There's been some - upset, shall we say - and it is vital that Draco be able to come. I am not asking you to lessen your detention with Draco. I simply request that part of it, at least, be put off for another day."

"So that was the 'important something' he told me about," she murmured. "I told him I didn't care if he had an appointment with the Minister. I suppose I should give him that much of a reprieve for Harry's sake."

"I appreciate that, Minerva," Severus said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I still want him to come to detention in the morning, though," she said. "What time do you need him?"

"Two o'clock," Severus responded.

"Then he will be free by then to visit Harry," she said. "I appreciate you actually coming and stating your problem rather than trying to deal with it yourself." Severus didn't respond, just stood there looking slightly stunned. "You're improving, you know," she continued. "Not trying to solve all of your problems on your own."

"Have a good evening," Severus responded, choosing to ignore Minerva's comments. If only she knew, she wouldn't say he had been improving. But he didn't want to destroy her good image of him, even if it was a lie.

"Good evening," Minerva replied, as Severus showed himself out.

.oO-Oo.

Professor Snape had left to go see what Draco was doing tomorrow that he couldn't see him, Harry. Harry was deeply concerned that it was really that Draco regretted having promised to come over, and was simply making an excuse. How often hadn't he over heard his aunt say that she had a headache when she simply wanted to do something else? It was common for people to tell a convenient lie over an inconvenient truth. If it would be inconvenient for Aunt Petunia to say that she didn't want to have tea with someone, then she would say she had a headache and do whatever else it was she wanted to do, with the convenient lie. Harry felt that perhaps Draco had done the same thing.

Draco could have rethought the incident in the hallway. Maybe he could see Harry for what he was now - now that Harry had added to his injuries himself. Maybe Draco did see that he should have better friends. That he could do better than Harry. He hoped it wasn't the case, but that hope was actually more of a wish. After all, in addition to the hallway incident, Draco did know.

Harry just hoped that Professor Snape wouldn't make Draco come if he didn't want to. Facing a false friend was something Harry didn't think he could bear.

He was sick of the lies. Sick of people who could live with a set of pretty lies. The ugly truths were better, Harry thought, because you could figure out what to do next. If you lived within the lies, you would just create more lies for yourself. If you remembered they were lies, what good did they do you anyway? And if you forgot they were lies, what hope did you have of keeping your sanity? Harry was convinced that the ability to successfully lie to oneself was the mark of insanity. And he might be terrible person, unworthy of the care he was receiving, but he didn't want to be insane.

The door opened, and Professor Snape came in. He quietly took off his cloak, and hung it up on a hook near the door.

"Harry?" he said. "Draco will be able to come by tomorrow after all. Professor McGonnagall had arranged that he spend the day working with her. I arranged with her that she could have Draco help her some other time." Harry caught his breath.

"So he - he still wants to come?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

"Yes, of course he still wants to come, you silly child," Professor Snape said.

He didn't want to explain the concept of detention. At least not now. If he started getting into detention, undoubtedly Harry would start asking about what Draco did to deserve that detention. And explaining that Draco had skipped a class to help him, Harry, wouldn't go over, Severus was sure. It was an example of Draco's friendship, that it in fact was genuine, but Harry wouldn't stand for anyone doing anything for him that would cost the other person.

It wasn't quite a lie he had told Minerva. If he had known that Harry was out of the chambers, and Draco would have been there, able to help, he would have approved of it. In that way, Draco was running an errand for him. It was something he would have asked Draco to do. Well, he would have preferred to deal with it himself, but since that wasn't what happened, Draco was the next best choice.

Harry wasn't stupid, Severus knew, in fact, quite the opposite. Harry would have chosen a deserted hallway or room. Part of the evidence of this was that the castle wasn't filled with rumors about the Boy-Who-Lived having been caught cutting himself, as Severus was sure there would be if anyone else but Harry's friends had found him.

Which led Severus to seriously wonder what Draco had been up to. He had a knack for mischief, Severus knew. Which was one of the reasons he wasn't asking Minerva to totally cancel the detention. He had a suspicion that whatever Draco had been up to that morning, it wasn't something that was allowed by school rules. He would make sure that that was the topic of Draco's detention with him on Monday.

Saturday afternoon came, and so did Draco. Harry was delighted that Draco showed up. Severus had suspected that Harry harbored some fear that Draco still wouldn't actually come.

Draco had brought more candy with him, and after another adventure of catching frogs, Harry and Draco sat on the floor, panting and laughing, licking chocolate off their fingers. Severus was in the next room, and he shook his head slightly and smiled as he listened to the happy sounds coming from his main room. He was glad that Harry could be happy at least for a few minutes.

"That was fun," Draco laughed.

"Would you like to flying?" Severus asked, suddenly behind the couch. He startled both of them, and they jumped. He had come out of his office, and now smirked at their expressions. Draco snorted and burst into giggles, but Harry couldn't see the humor.

"What's funny?"

"You realize what we look like?" Draco laughed. When Harry didn't react, Draco calmed his laughter. "It's funny, trust me."

"Alright," Harry said.

"So would you like to go flying?" Severus asked.

"Yes, sir!" Draco said, after a moment of hesitation from Harry.

The three of them went outside, through Severus' portal, Draco borrowing a school broom, and Harry with his specially enchanted broom. They flew around, Harry's broom feeding off of Severus' magic. Draco began to show Harry various tricks on the brooms, as the two of them began to choreograph two person spirals and dips.

Ah, it was moments like this where Severus was reminded that not everything in Harry's life had to be dark and horrible. He could see that Harry was enjoying the afternoon with Draco immensely, as was Draco. This was how it was supposed to be. This was how children were supposed to behave. At least wizard children, but all the children should be laughing, carefree, unburdened by a past of abuse. Severus smiled as he watched the two boys tumbling through the air, happy in each others' company.


	22. In Memoriam

It was Monday night, and it was five minutes to seven - the time when Draco was supposed to show up for his detention. Severus had explained to Harry that Draco would be coming by that night, but that Draco had to deal with some school issues that night with his head of house. Hermione was coming over again that night, Severus had heard from Draco.

It was after the boys had come down from their flying that Draco casually mentioned it to Severus that Hermione was planning on seeing Harry in two days' time. Thank goodness Draco had done it outside of Harry's hearing though!

"The mudblood - Granger - said she'd be coming by on Monday," Draco said.

"Draco," Severus hissed at him, "you would do well to keep your feelings on blood purity to yourself." Draco looked a bit taken aback.

"Yes, sir," he said, hesitatntly, almost like a question. Severus sighed. He supposed that he had better explain himself a bit more to Draco.

"Just don't call her that in anyone's hearing," Severus hissed again. "Including Harry's. Whether or not you or I approve of her blood purity, she is a fine example of a Ravenclaw, and I don't need Harry trying to gather much needed friends based on that criteria. He can learn about purity later. Right now, she will do him more good than harm. So I request that you not put her down or call her - that name - in front of Harry." It wasn't that Severus was really judgmental of Hermione because she was a muggle-born - the love of his life had been a muggle-born - but he had to wear his mask that he did look down upon it. And he still couldn't bring himself to say that word. Mudblood. Not after he had called Lily that in a fit of anger and stress had he been able to bring himself to say it.

"Alright, Uncle Severus," Draco agreed.

Well, Hermione, being the Ravenclaw she was, had remembered that he had asked her to make Monday "her day" to see Harry, and she had presumed that she was expected tonight as well. Thankfully, she had made no secret of this, and so Draco knew her plans for the night. She had just come by, actually, and Severus had let her in, and she and Harry were playing Exploding Snap again.

Ah, there was a knock on Severus' office door. He rose, and answered it. There stood Draco, contrite, head bowed. Severus wondered just how much of that was sincere and how much was an act. Wordlessly, Severus stepped aside, and Draco went to the chair in front of his desk, and sat down, watching Severus anxiously. Severus, in turn, sat down behind his desk and laced his fingers as he rested his elbows on the top of it.

"Mister Malfoy," he began, and Draco screwed up the expression on his face at the sound of such a formal address. "I am going to ask you some questions and I expect you to answer them directly and honestly."

"Yes, sir," Draco mumbled, not even thinking of calling him Uncle Severus right now.

"Why were you not heading to Transfiguration on Friday?" Draco swallowed uncomfortably.

"Because I was wondering in the halls, sir," Draco said.

"Obviously," Severus drawled at him. There was no reason to hold back any sarcasm at this point. Draco could take it, and Severus was sure that there were things at work which even Draco didn't understand. "Harry wasn't in a well-traveled hallway. Which would mean that neither were you. I don't believe in chance meetings. Do you take me for stupid?"

"No, sir," Draco said quickly.

"Then why were you where ever you were?"

"Because of the mirror," Draco blurted suddenly. Severus was quiet a minute.

"What mirror?" he asked quietly.

"In the hallway!" Draco continued babbling. "It shows you wonderful and terrible things. It shows you what you want." Severus leaned back into his seat, and pinched the bridge of his nose. The Mirror of Erised. That fool. What was Dumbledore thinking now, leaving that thing around the school?

"And you've been looking at it, I take it?" he drawled.

"Yes, sir," Draco said, hanging his head.

"Do not look at it ever again," Severus growled, pronouncing every word distinctly. "Better wizards than you have wasted their lives in front of that infernal device. Never go back there. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Draco mumbled. He, Severus, had seen the mirror, and he had seen Lily's happy face. He'd seen her wave at him and silently say his name. Oh, did that memory sting. He wanted to just watch the mirror for the rest of eternity, letting himself bask in the gaze of his Lily - the Lily he'd never had. He knew at the time that doing such would kill him. The grief and the desire would have stopped his heart, he was sure, yet he knew the power the mirror had at luring its victims. He believed that if it wasn't for his Occlemency, he would have been lost to the spell of the mirror. The stronger the desire, the stronger the spell laid its hold.

"Did Harry see it?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes, sir," Draco replied.

"What did he see?" Severus asked, suddenly very concerned. Harry's desires were strong, and if he had seen the mirror as Draco said, the damage might already be done.

"He said that he saw his mom and dad, you, and all of us." Severus nodded. Undoubtedly the vision had simply been that he was cared for and loved. That was all Harry wanted after all.

"I see," Severus said. He wished Harry had trusted him with the information of the mirror before this. He wasn't sure how to interpret Harry's silence on the matter. Surely a magic mirror would make someone like Harry want to say something about it? But perhaps Harry thought it was a forbidden dream, to be loved? Or perhaps he had liked the mirror, and felt guilty that he could have liked anything that had happened that day. "Write me an essay, two feet in length, on the dangers of focusing on your desires so much that you forget to live and make those desires real."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a quill and parchment.

"Begin."

.oO-Oo.

"Harry," Professor Snape said, sitting on the couch after Draco and Hermione had left. Harry was standing in front of Professor Snape, and he began wringing his hands nervously. The tone Professor Snape used - it didn't bode well. He wanted to talk about something, and whatever something this was, it wasn't pleasant. Professor Snape was silent for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts.

"There was," he began, pausing awkwardly in the middle of the sentence, "a mirror in the hallway on Friday, was there not?" Harry gasped quietly in surprise. How had Professor Snape known? Well, the man knew lots of things, and most of them, Harry couldn't begin to fathom how he had found out.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, nervously. He had learned his lesson about lying to Professor Snape. It just didn't work, and he had better not try that again.

"I don't want you ever to look at that mirror again," Professor Snape said.

"Why, sir?"

"Because the mirror will make you a slave to its spell and you will waste away in front of it, forgetting to live."

"Sir?"

"It shows you want you want to see," Professor Snape explained. "And you need to try to make what you see come true. You need to try to make it real, and not be satisfied seeing it in a glass."

"Yes, sir," Harry said contritely.

"Do you understand?" Professor Snape continued.

"Yes, sir."

"Then explain what I just said."

"That - that the mirror shows me what I want."

"And?"

"And that I shouldn't sit in front of it."

"Because?"

"Because I'll waste my life."

"And what are you supposed to do instead?" Harry winced at this question.

"You want me to make what I want come true," he muttered, staring at his feet, as he kicked at the pebble that wasn't there.

"Yes, exactly," Professor Snape said, not unkindly. Harry took in a shuttering breath. "What's wrong?" Professor Snape asked. Harry just shook his mop of hair into his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Professor Snape asked again. "Come sit down." Harry did as instructed, and sat rigidly on the edge of the couch. His stress levels were high, yes, but Professor Snape didn't know why. And for that, Harry was glad. He didn't want Professor Snape to know more than he had to. "Tell me what's wrong," Professor Snape continued, his voice low, but commanding.

"What if - " Harry began, "what if things I want conflict?"

"How so?"

"I - I don't know how to explain."

"Tell me what it is you want, and why the things conflict." Harry swallowed, and began to stammer. "Relax," Professor Snape's voice cut through his panic. "Breathe. Tell me the first thing you want."

"Hermione," Harry gasped. "I - I like her. She's special."

"Alright," Professor Snape coaxed. "So you like her. What is it you want, though?"

"I want her to - well, to like me too." Professor Snape nodded thoughtfully.

"Now, what is the other thing you want?"

"I want Hermione to be happy," Harry said with half a sob.

"Ah," Professor Snape said. "Here we come to the crux of the matter." Professor Snape put his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. "How is it that these two desires conflict?" Couldn't Professor Snape see? Hermione couldn't both like him, at least, not in a special way, and still be happy! But he knew that Professor Snape would try to tell him that that wasn't true - that he was good enough for Hermione to like him and be happy. What could he say?

"Why would she ever like me?" he muttered bitterly.

"Why would she not?"

"There's others," Harry shrugged.

"Harry," Professor Snape said in his long-suffering way, "maybe she doesn't want the others. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn't. Who are you to know her mind?" Here comes the lecture, Harry thought. He'd get to hear another speech about how he was worth various things, how he was good, and how he was loved. It was all a very nice lecture, except that Harry didn't quite believe it. Yes, he would love to, and there was a little voice that told him that perhaps it was correct. But the louder voice of doubt drowned it out. So he simply shrugged in response.

"I don't know, sir," he said after a moment of silence. "But how can I know how she feels?"

"You could ask her," Professor Snape said, "but sometimes that's not always the best course of action. She came here tonight on her own, didn't she? That's got to be a good sign, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Should I ask her?"

"Probably not quite yet. What do you talk about when she's here?"

"Nothing really," Harry said after a moment. "We just...play cards."

"Maybe you should talk to her a little bit. Maybe if you just talk about things, something will happen. Worth a try?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "What sort of things could we talk about?"

"Anything," Professor Snape responded. "You can talk about anything you like."

"What if - what if she starts asking - questions?"

"Then you can answer them," he said, mussing Harry's mop. "More seriously, I'm sure Hermione will respect any boundaries you wish to set. If you don't want to answer a question, simply say so. But I am confident she won't reject you for your past abuse, if that's what you're worried about."

"How can you be sure?" Professor Snape was quiet a moment, as if caught in some memory.

"Because," he began slowly, "there was a girl - a special girl - who didn't reject me, and her name was Lily." Harry nodded, and instinctively knew the conversation had ended.

.oO-Oo.

Oh dear. The child had his first crush. This could prove complicated - and awkward - but it could also be something that Harry desperately needed. Someone he felt he needed to care for. That protective instinct perhaps could be awoken in him. Perhaps Hermione could cause him to heal.

He was especially glad now that he had instructed Draco not insult Hermione's blood status. One thing Harry didn't need was to feel conflicted between having to choose Draco or Hermione. One, a friend he so desperately needed, one who would stand by him no matter what, the other, his first crush, even if Severus wasn't ready to call it love. He remembered a boy a generation ago who was faced with the exact same choice, and that boy had chosen wrong. He didn't want to see Harry put in the same position.

.oO-Oo.

As the days melted in the weeks, and the weeks became months, Harry's progress became more apparent. His brewing skills were excellent, and he was a genius in herbology. The only hang up in his school was the lack of magic that Harry showed. Still, every night, Severus made Harry meditate in an attempt to regain his magic. Severus knew it was there. Harry just needed to find a way to access it.

Each of Harry's friends came regularly on their appointed night to visit him. Harry became more relaxed and accepting among them. There was certainly a unique relationship growing with each of them. Hermione was the boy's first crush, Neville caused Harry to talk, even if Harry hadn't confided anything to him yet, Ron and Harry played games, but hadn't really gotten to know each other, and Draco knew everything. And that was what Severus credited to Draco seeming to be Harry's closest friend.

The Death Eaters had been especially quiet lately, Severus had observed. No meetings had been called in all those weeks, and every day he rose with the fear that that day would be the day. He knew Harry would be a mess after any involvement with the Death Eaters - as anyone should be. The only hope Severus had was that he might be able to make enough progress with Harry that he wouldn't loose too much ground by exposing him to those who wanted him dead.

And finally, there had been no progress on the Dursley's trial. Severus suspected that Dumbledore had his hand in it. As long as Dumbledore could delay the trial, the longer it would be till he himself was exposed. As much as Severus was furious at the man, as much as he hated him for what he had done, Severus couldn't think of anyone else he would rather have for a leader. It wasn't that he defended or supported Dumbledore - quite the opposite - but did anyone else have what it took to manage the Order and defeat the Dark Lord?

Halloween was nearing, and along with its coming, came the general excitement among the students, looking forward to the festivities. Naturally, Harry's friends began to chatter to him about the feast and celebrations. Finally, one day, Draco invited Harry along with him to celebrate Halloween.

"Hey, Harry," Draco said, "want to come to the Great Hall with me on Halloween?"

"The Great Hall?" Harry asked, taken aback.

"Yeah, where the Sorting Feast was, remember?"

"Yeah," Harry acknowledged neutrally.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Draco suddenly backpedaled. He hadn't meant to suggest something that Harry that he didn't want to do. Draco didn't want Harry to feel that he had to do it in order to be friends. "Really, it's fine if you don't want to. But if you do want to, you can come with me."

"You - you wouldn't mind?" Harry asked hesitatingly.

"Nope," Draco assured him, not knowing what it was Harry was asking about him minding - coming, or not coming - but either way, Draco surely didn't mind.

"Well," Harry began, and then seemed to choke on his words, "if you really don't mind me coming with you - "

"I don't."

"Then, I guess - " Harry shrugged nervously. This was what Professor Snape had told him to do, right? Figure out what he wanted, and then try to make it happen.

"You want to come?" Draco prompted.

"Yes," Harry said, gasping a little bit at the startling revelation that he was expressing something he wanted.

"Wonderful!" Draco exclaimed. "You can sit at the Slytherin table with the rest of us then. You'll probably get a chance to see Hermione too." Draco said it with a little wink. He knew Harry liked her, and while he didn't particularly approve of Hermione's blood status, he did understand Severus' warning to him, and he was intent on keeping his word that he would not insult Hermione - for Harry's sake.

Harry blushed a deep crimson, and Draco tried not to smirk at him. But Draco was failing miserably.

"I'll be by on Halloween then and we can go together," Draco said, still trying to suppress his grin.

"Yeah, good," Harry said, still blushing, but he had the standard crooked half grin that love-smitten boys sometimes get.

.oO-Oo.

And so Halloween came. Severus had been hesitant about letting Harry go back to the Great Hall, but Draco had begged and pleaded. Finally, the thing that had changed Severus' mind on the matter was that Draco said that Harry had told him that he wanted to go. If Harry had expressed a preference on something - anything - Severus wanted to see to it that it came true, at least as much as was possible.

So while Draco and Harry headed through the corridors to the Great Hall, Severus was at the head table with the other professors that night. Harry knew that he would be there, and he hoped that it would serve as something of a comfort to Harry to know that he could intervene at any point should anything get out of hand.

Ah, there the two little imps were, Severus thought as he saw the doors of the Great Hall open. Draco was taking the lead, as he expected, and snickering to Harry over some private joke. Severus saw that they successfully made their way to the Slytherin table and sat down. Harry was looking around anxiously, but Severus notice his gaze linger on the Ravenclaw table several times.

.oO-Oo.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry whispered to Draco. He'd never confirmed or denied Draco's subtle accusation, not in so many words, but with everything else Draco knew, would it be so terrible for him to go on suspecting that?

"I don't know," Draco whispered in return. "I thought she was coming. I don't really know though. I don't talk to her that much."

"Oh," Harry said, still casting frequent glances at the Ravenclaws and the door. Quietly, Draco began to ask about Granger's whereabouts for Harry's sake. After asking a few of the more observant Slytherins, he was told that she was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, crying about something.

"I'm sure she'll be along," Draco said after explaining it to Harry. In a few minutes, the feast had begun, and suddenly, the doors burst open, revealing the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrel.

"Th-there's a t-troll in the d-d-dungeons," he shouted, stammer and all, and then fainted. Everyone began to whisper, talk, scream, and yell at the same time.

"A troll?" Harry hissed at Draco.

"Yeah," Draco said, the shock apparently in his voice.

"A - troll?" Harry repeated.

"Everyone, return to your dormitories!" Dumbledore's voice called out above the general commotion.

"Absolutely not!" Professor Snape shouted back at him. "My Slytherins will stay right here. If the troll is the dungeons, do you really expect them to go to to the dungeons to get to their dormitories?" Then turning to his house, he said, "If you value your lives, you will stay right here." He locked gazes with Harry, but Harry couldn't read what he was trying to silently say to him. Quickly and efficiently, though, the professors scrambled to deal with the intrusion. In a matter of two minutes, there wasn't a professor in sight, but the other houses were still filing out of the Great Hall.

"Hermione," Harry hissed in Draco's ear. "She doesn't know about the troll!" Draco froze and measured Harry's desperation for a moment.

"You're right," he said after a pause. Harry truly was desperate. "I'll go save her." Draco didn't want to risk anything to save Granger, but he did care about Harry, and Harry in turn cared about Hermione. So indirectly, he had to save her to save Harry.

"But - but - " Harry stammered. "I can do it. You should stay here." Draco snorted.

"No, you're staying put. You have any idea how much trouble I'd be in with Professor Snape for taking you into danger?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Alright," he agreed, a bit too quickly for Draco's liking. He wrote it off to simply doing as instructed. Maybe Harry thought if he got him in trouble, then he, Draco, wouldn't want to be friends with Harry anymore. Not that that was true in this case, but that was still what Draco thought. So quietly, Draco slipped into the crowd of Hufflepuffs, who were all too scared to notice a Slytherin among them.

Momentarily, Draco found himself in the corridor outside the Great Hall, and he took off in the direction of the girl's bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder, though, and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Harry!" he hissed. "Get back to the Great Hall now!"

"But you shouldn't be here doing this. It should be me." Harry was almost in tears, begging to be the one to save Hermione.

"Why?" Draco asked, truly confused. Why would Harry want to be the one to risk Professor Snape's anger?

"You're gonna die!" Harry sobbed out, unable to hold some of the tears back. "It's a troll! You can't win, can you?"

"Well - " Draco began and cut off. So that was it, was it? Harry was willing to risk Professor Snape's wrath because he didn't believe he'd have to face it. Because he didn't believe he would come back alive. Draco hesitated. "Look, I won't die, and neither will you. The troll's in the dungeons, remember? We're headed to the third floor."

"But it's better me than you taking that risk!"

"I'm not going to have this argument here," Draco said through clenched teeth. "Are you going to go back or not?" Harry looked hesitant for a moment, but then shook his head. "Blasted Gryffindor," Draco muttered under his breath, too low for Harry to hear. "Fine," he said, "come on. And stay behind me. If you're killed, then I'm as good as dead myself. Professor Snape would see to it himself!" He shot Harry a small smile, but pressed on down the corridor, now running, with Harry scrambling to keep up.

Finally, they got to the bathrooms. Draco started to say something, but Harry shushed him, as he strained to listen.

"I hear her," Harry whispered.

"Then let's go get her and tell her to go to the dorms," Draco said. "Maybe we can get back to the Great Hall before we're missed." So together they ducked into the bathroom.

"Hermione!" Harry called softly when they were in the bathroom.

"Go away!" she sniffed at them from inside a stall. Harry looked taken aback, like he didn't know what to do.

"There's a troll loose in the school," Draco began. "And the Ravenclaws were sent to their dorms, and you weren't there to hear!"

"Oh," Hermione choked.

"Um...Draco..." Harry stammered as he tugged at Draco's robe sleeve. "Don't look now but - " Draco looked over his shoulder cautiously. There stood the troll, looming in the doorway, pinning them into the bathroom. Hermione screamed as she left the stall she had been crying in.

"Get behind me," Draco said, taking the lead, and drawing his wand. He aimed it at the troll, trying to look as threatening as possible. But no matter how he tried, an eleven year old first year just wasn't all that scary. The troll just stepped forward. Hermione drew her wand as well.

"You have a wand?" she asked Harry quickly.

"No," Harry said, eyes wide, unsure what to do. The troll raised the club he was carrying, and aimed it at Draco's blonde head. Draco froze. Why couldn't he think of a single spell? Hermione let out another scream, and Harry pushed Draco out of the way of the club as it came crashing down. The both of them landed on the floor right next to where the club now lay.

"Thanks," Draco gasped, but the troll had dislodged the club and was preparing for another strike.

"Flores!" screamed one voice, a female voice, from the other side of the troll.

"Stupefy!" screamed another male voice, also from the other side of the troll, at the same time as the woman. Then two things happened. The troll's club turned into a bouquet of roses, and the troll fell forward. As the dust settled, Hermione, Draco, and Harry saw to figures step over the troll.

"What in the name of Merlin have you been doing?" Minerva McGonagall fairly screeched at them. "Miss Granger, why aren't you in your dormitory? Mr. Malfoy, and - Mr. Potter - why aren't you in the Great Hall?" Her voice took a turn for the softer once she had spotted Harry.

"I believe I can take care of my Slytherins, Minerva," Severus Snape interrupted. "As for Miss Granger, why are you here?"

"I - I was just - " She met Professor Snape's eyes, and seemed to have gotten lost in the penetrating gaze.

"Well?" he prompted. She mumbled something as she looked at the ground.

"What was that?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I was crying, ma'am," she repeated.

"It would have been a lot safer to cry in your common room," Professor Snape commented.

"She didn't know about the troll," Harry cut in. "She wasn't in the Great Hall." Professor Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry.

"Twenty points from Slytherin, and ten from Ravenclaw," Professor Snape said. "None of you were supposed to be here, and you very nearly got yourselves all killed! What do you think you were doing? What were you thinking? You could all be three cold corpses on the ground here - and you would be, if we hadn't heard Miss Granger scream."

"But we wouldn't be cold," Hermione pointed out. "The body heat wouldn't have dissipated yet - "

"Five points for arguing with a Professor," McGonagall interrupted. Hermione shut her mouth and looked abashed.

"The point isn't the temperature of your bodies," Professor Snape continued ranting. "You could all be injured or dead! I told you to stay in the Great Hall!" As he stopped for breath, he noticed Harry's face. Harry's face betrayed the combination of fear and horror that was running through his head. He had deliberately disobeyed Professor Snape and had been caught, and he had no idea what would happen to him or his friends now.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "It was my fault. I asked Draco about looking for Hermione, and I went to go look for her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Harry put his face into his hands, and began to shake so hard that Draco took him by the shoulders - ignoring the involuntary shutter - and helped him to the ground so that he wouldn't fall. Discreetly, Draco shot Professor Snape a venomous look. He could get away with it, Draco thought, as long as no one but Professor Snape saw it.

.oO-Oo.

Suddenly feeling quite stupid, Severus saw what he had done.

"Minerva," he said quietly, "take Miss Granger and leave. Have someone clean up the troll in a few minutes." It was the closest he could come to a polite request at the moment. He wanted to kick himself in the backside. How, how could he have lost it like that? Well, he had been scared - unlike he had been scared since Lily's life was threatened. And his defense mechanism to deal with fear was to lash out.

"Alright, Severus," she replied, turned, and glancing back to make sure Hermione was following, they left the bathroom. That left Draco, Harry and Severus. Harry was kneeling on the stone floor, sitting on his heels, sobbing into his hands, as Draco crouched beside him, awkwardly trying to offer comfort. Now, more openly, Draco sneered at him.

"That's enough, Draco," he barked. Draco had made his point, a valid one, but there was no more reason for it. "I'll deal with you later. In my office. Wait for me."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, giving Harry's shoulder one last squeeze. Severus waited until Draco was gone before he knelt on his heels in front of Harry. His crying had quieted - well, it was always quiet - but it had slowed, probably because he wanted to know what Severus was doing. When he would be hit. Or worse.

"Harry," Severus sighed, "I'm sorry." Harry shook his head, but didn't respond, and didn't take his hands away from his face. "I'm sorry," he repeated, with the emphasis on sorry. "But you could have been killed, you know that, Harry?" Harry nodded. "Look at me," Severus sighed. Obediently, Harry took his hands away from his face and met Severus' gaze. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry choked out.

"I'm sorry for scolding you, but you scared me," he continued. "I was scared that you'd already been killed. You and Draco were laying on the ground. What if you - or Draco, for that matter - had died? But especially you. I thought you could have been dead."

"I'm sorry," was all Harry could say as he let out one last sob.

"Don't ever risk your life like that again," Severus admonished. He reached out and helped Harry to his feet. Drawing him close, Severus embraced Harry. Harry didn't return it, but rather tried to curl in on himself if such a thing were possible to limit the amount of contact.

"I won't hurt you, I promise," Severus said. "I want you to write an essay for me, but I won't punish you in any other way. Do you understand?" There was no response from Harry. "Do you understand?" he repeated, softer this time.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered miserably into Severus' robes. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"You should have stayed in the Great Hall like I said," Severus continued, "but what you did was selfless. Stupidly selfless, but still. You could have asked a teacher about it, you know. Or a prefect. You don't have to solve everything yourself."

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered again.

"Tonight, ten years ago, I lost your mother. You lost both your parents. I couldn't bear to lose you now too, on that anniversary. Come. There's something I want you to see." Wordlessly, Harry followed Severus to the dungeons. Still not exchanging any words, Severus summoned two large objects. He laid them out on Harry's nightstand. They were two large candles.

"In memoriam, Lily Potter," he muttered as he wordlessly lit the first candle with his wand. "In memoriam, James Potter." He lit the second. "These are for you, as a memorial to your parents. I light one every year for your mother. It sickens me that everyone rejoices for the defeat of the Dark Lord that night, but forgets the cost."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, obviously feeling overwhelmed and sitting on the floor, watching the candles burn. They stayed that way for untold minutes, Harry watching the candles, and Severus watching Harry.

"It's time you go to sleep," Severus said, breaking the almost magical moment.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, without argument. He took off his Slytherin scarf.

"I promise I will not beat you," Severus began. "The only consequences will be an essay tomorrow on asking a superior for help, and detailing what could have happened tonight. Nothing more. I promise." Then, after muttering a quiet summoning charm, "Here's a dreamless sleep potion. Heaven knows you should be exhausted, but this will make you sleep soundly." Harry drank the offered potion, and crawled into bed.

"Good night, Harry," Severus said from the doorway.

"Good night, Professor," Harry mumbled back.

"At least you're here to have a good night," Severus whispered, too quietly for Harry to hear.

.oO-Oo.

"What in Merlin's name were you thinking?" Severus hissed at Draco, who winced at the words.

"I don't know, sir," Draco answered automatically.

"That's not an answer!"

"Harry likes Granger!" Draco snapped back. "He was going to go off without anyone, and I tried to go instead, and he followed me! I couldn't send him back and I couldn't take him back."

"Why didn't you go to a prefect? Why do you think we have prefects?"

"I didn't think of it, sir," Draco said.

"You - didn't - think. That's about it. You and Harry could both be dead, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said.

"Three feet on going to a superior with your problems, and not risking your life. During detention tomorrow night. Seven o'clock, my office."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

.oO-Oo.

Severus went to his bedroom, and set a candle on his nightstand, not unlike he had done for Harry. Aligning his wand, he wordlessly light the candle.

"In memoriam, Lily Potter."


	23. Merry Christmas

The next day was hell for Harry. Despite Severus' repeated assurances that nothing worse than an essay would befall him for the previous night's escapades, Harry was still wary. Severus couldn't blame Harry - but, he realized, it still stung. Every time Harry gasped or flinched, expecting to be hit, Severus was disappointed. Not in Harry, but rather in himself, for not making his point more clear for Harry - that he would never, ever hit him.

But both of them survived the day, with just another incident behind them, where Severus had not gone back on his word to Harry. Perhaps Harry could eventually one day see that he wouldn't ever go back on his word.

.oO-Oo.

Hermione, on the other hand, after leaving Professor Flitwick's detention, saw none other than Draco Malfoy waiting for her, leaning against the wall. Draco had his customary sneer on his face, but was clearly waiting for her.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she snapped at him.

"Why were you in the bathroom last night?" he returned, getting right down to the point.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled at him.

"Seeing as I almost died last night, I think it is," he drawled back at her. Hermione clutched her books to her chest and glared back at him. "Well?" he prompted.

"I was crying, if you must know," Hermione huffed at him. "Now, if you will excuse me."

"But why?" Draco said, causing her to pause her retreat.

"Why what?"

"Why were you crying?" Hermione just blinked at him for a moment.

"Why would you care?" she barked at him. "You're the son of a Death Eater!"

"Without responding to the accusation, which has been declared false by the Ministry, I may note, I do believe we have something in common, namely, Harry Potter," Draco drawled. "So in that interest, why were you crying?"

"Because of that horrid Ronald Weasley!" Hermione sniffed.

"Oh? What did he do now?" Draco asked, now genuinely interested.

"He said that I was a know-it-all and that was why I didn't have any friends." Hermione looked at the ground.

"Well, you are something of a know-it-all," Draco smirked. "But - "

"Look, Malfoy, if you just want to insult me, apparently anyone can do that at any point. A good day to you." Although her tone wished him anything but a good day.

"If you would let me finish, Granger!" Draco snapped. "If Weasley knew what was good for him, he'd keep you close. You might be a know-it-all, but that's not entirely a bad thing."

"Oh," Hermione said.

"And as far as not having any friends, I think Harry's your friend."

"Really?" she asked, but it was more of a prompt for Draco to say more.

"Yeah," he continued. It looked like he wanted to say something more, but he closed his mouth.

"And are you Harry's friend?" Hermione challenged.

"Yes," Draco said, pushing himself off of the wall. "Don't you ever challenge my friendship," he growled at her. "Hurt Harry, and you've won yourself an enemy for life."

"And why should you be so protective of the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Slytherins stick together," Draco offered. "Harry's your friend, and he risked his life last night to save you. Be appreciative."

"I am," Hermione said.

"No," Draco corrected. "I don't think you are. Harry deliberately disobeyed Professor Snape to save you last night. It wasn't my idea. It was his. You don't know what goes on behind closed doors. Or what has gone on. Be appreciative like you've never been before."

"Alright," Hermione hesitated. "If you mean that Harry was abused, I know that much. You don't have to be a genius to figure that out."

"Yeah," Draco said. "I don't even know why I'm here." Suddenly, he turned and stalked off. He wasn't sure why he'd waited for Hermione, or had that conversation, but he thought it had something to do with wanting to make sure that Hermione didn't dismiss what Harry had done for her.

Hermione, on the other hand, also wasn't sure why Draco had waited for her or had that conversation. Whatever Draco knew, though, was pressing hard against his heart, and she did think that Draco was a friend to Harry. Of course she knew that Harry had been abused. She didn't know how, or the extent, but she knew he had been. She'd read things about abuse, and she could see that Harry displayed those qualities. And that would account for Harry's staying with Professor Snape too. But Draco's odd mannerisms confirmed it, and honestly, they concerned her a little about just how far the abuse had gone. Draco obviously knew what was going on. But that was to be expected. Harry and Draco were both Slytherins, and he was Professor Snape's godson on top of being a Malfoy. Perhaps she should go about finding out what Ron or Neville knew...

.oO-Oo.

It wasn't more than a couple days later, when Hermione went over to the Hufflepuff table, and found Neville laughing over some inside joke with some of his housemates.

"Neville," Hermione said, "I need to talk to you and the Weasley boy. Can you tell him to meet us in the library tonight after supper?"

"Sure," Neville said. "What's it about?"

"I'm not too sure yet," Hermione said.

"Alright."

Well, after supper, the three of them all met in the library, although Hermione gave Ron her best death glare she could muster. Suddenly, a blonde head popped into the group.

"Am I here on time?" Draco asked.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron sneered.

"Longbottom said that something was going on with Harry's friends, and I thought I'd show up," Draco drawled.

"Well," Hermione stammered, now not sure she wanted to talk about Harry's abuse, "that was very nice of you, Neville."

"Was I - not supposed to come?" Draco said, faking laughter.

"Oh, no, of course you were," Hermione lied. "I just forgot to tell Neville to ask you. And it was his intuition that made up for that little oversight." Hermione shot Draco a smile.

"Of course," Draco said, full well knowing that he had been purposely left out, and Neville's Hufflepuff skills had told him to add his name to the invitation list. Still, he took a seat with the others.

"Do any of you know about Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione blurted.

"Sure!" Draco said. "He's an alchemist, and he's the one who came up with the philosopher's stone. It was on a chocolate frog card."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I hadn't thought to look there."

"The know-it-all doesn't it know it all?" Ron mumbled.

"What did you say?" Hermione said, in that way that informed everyone that she knew what he'd said.

"Look, Weasel," Malfoy said, "you leave her alone. Insulting her isn't going to help anyone. Apparently." He muttered the last word, because he couldn't believe he was sticking up for a mudblood. How his whole world was turned upside down, he'd never know.

"Well, you look...Malware," Ron threatened, but he started stammering, not able to put a coherent sentence together.

"Do you even know what a malware is?" Draco asked, slightly amused.

"Yes, of course!" Ron huffed. "It's a - a sort of animal. And it eats its pray alive. And it enjoys to make it scream while it's eating it." By this time, Draco and Ron were standing so close it would have been difficult to put a piece of parchment between them.

"Oh?" Draco said. Well, he sure didn't know what malware was, but he didn't think Ron had it right. "Granger? Let's have you settle this. What's malware?"

"It's a thing that infects muggle computers," Hermione supplied. "It causes them to break down and freeze up. It has nothing to do with animals."

"Didn't think so," Draco sneered. He turned back to the group and sat down. "So Nicolas Flamel. Why do we care about Nicolas Flamel, again?"

.oO-Oo.

Over the next few weeks, the four of them began to form something of a group. It had been Harry Potter who united them, and sometimes, that was the only thing that held them together, but it was sufficient. They studied together and they plotted together. Of course, they were trying to break the mystery of what was being held on the third floor and Nicolas Flamel. Others had noticed the odd group, the least of which not being that a Malfoy and a Weasley were sitting at the same table in the library day after day and neither had killed the other. Anyone who cared to observe saw that they still despised each other, though they kept dueling to a minimum.

But as the days continued, Christmas came nearer. Each of the quartet had their own Christmas plans. Hermione had her parents - who had dearly missed their only daughter. Neville was going home to see his grandmother. Draco was going home to Lucius and Narcissa. But the Weasleys, for some reason unbeknown to anyone other than Arthur or Molly, were staying at Hogwarts.

And so Christmas vacation came, and each in their turn, bid Harry farewell. Draco, Hermione, and Neville each made a special visit to say good bye and merry Christmas to Harry before they left. Ron had said that he was staying for the holidays.

"Professor Snape," Harry said one day, just before the students were leaving, "what am I going to do for Christmas?" His tone was measured and his words were such that Severus guessed they had been carefully rehearsed.

"You are not going back to your relatives, if that's what you're nervous about," Severus said, getting to what he thought was Harry's real question as soon as he could. "You're going to stay here at Hogwarts, as will I, and we will celebrate Christmas."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "I'm sorry to make you stay at Hogwarts."

"I always spend Christmas here," Severus dismissed. "I don't have any family or friends anyway, and so I might as well stay here and brew potions for Madame Pomfrey."

"Yes, sir," Harry repeated.

.oO-Oo.

Christmas Eve dawned brightly, and the sun reflected over a fresh coating of snow. Severus wondered how it always managed to snow at Hogwarts, despite the distinct absence of snow in British weather, and he thought it had something to do with Dumbeldore's spells. Well if only he stuck to manipulating the weather instead of his students.

Severus, of course, had seen to getting a gift for Harry. It was the first time in a long time since he had had to get a Christmas present for someone. He had kept the gift quiet of course, a surprise for Harry. He would go over the concept of Christmas presents that night when Harry opened his.

"Harry," Severus said, "would you like to eat Christmas Eve dinner in the Great Hall? There will only be a few people there, mostly teachers."

"That's fine, sir," Harry said.

"Ron will be there," Severus added. "I don't know what his parents had planned, but all the Weasleys are staying over Christmas here."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. They got ready for supper, and made their way to the Great Hall. Like Professor Snape had promised, the Great Hall looked nearly deserted. The teachers were sitting at one table, and all the students who had remained behind sat on another, regardless of house. The Great Hall was spectacularly decorated. There were wreaths and holly everywhere. Dumbledore had even spelled the ceiling to snow. Candles floated in the air, and it smelled distinctly of gingerbread. So that was why Minerva had requested a gingerbread perfume from him! He thought it had been an odd order. Harry was smiling at all the decorations though, and for that, Severus was glad.

"Go sit with Ron," he whispered to Harry, and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze before sending him off. Severus went to go sit with the professors, although somehow he thought his usual "Bah humbug" routine would no longer be bought by the other professors. He would try to be slightly less cold this year, he supposed. He might even wish Minerva a merry Christmas.

.oO-Oo.

Harry went over to the table where the other students were sitting. He quickly spotted the Weasleys, and among them Ron. He made his way over to his friend.

"Hi, Ron," he gasped, trying not to hyperventilate.

"Hi, Harry!" Ron said, scooting over to make Harry a spot. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Harry responded, as he sat down with Ron. Suddenly someone reached around from behind him and covered his eyes. He froze and began to gulp in air.

"Guess who?" a voice sang out from behind him.

"Oh, give it up, George," another voice said.

"I'm Fred!" the first voice replied in an injured tone. "Can you even remember your own name?"

"Same could be said of you!"

"So guess who," the first voice said again.

"Fred or George?" Harry squeaked out.

"Brilliant!" and his eyes were released. Fred and George Weasley each sat backs against the table on either side of Harry.

"He's Fred, I'm George," the one on Harry's right said. "We're Ron's brothers. And you're Harry Potter."

"He's lying," the one on Harry's left returned. "He's Fred, and I'm George. But he's right that we're Ron's brothers."

"Regrettably," the first one continued with a disgusted look on his face. "And you really are Harry Potter." Harry didn't react, just looked from one to the other in confusion.

"You are Harry Potter, right?" the one on the left said.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. He looked at Ron helplessly.

"Fred," Ron said pointing at the one on Harry's right. "George," he continued point at the one on Harry's left.

"Aw, likkle Ronnie has no sense of humor," Fred pouted. Ron stuck his tongue out at them.

"These are my brothers," Ron said sullenly.

"I see," Harry said, still glancing between the identical faces on his either side.

"They're twins," Ron continued.

"Twins?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," George said. "Twins. Like, clones. Duplicates. Surprise baby!" Harry nodded mutely.

"So," Fred said, slapping his hand down on Harry's shoulder like they were old chums, "how about a little prank?"

"A prank?" Harry repeated.

"This kid needs a dictionary, doesn't he?" George said. "Yeah, they're fun, tricks and things, and we are the pranking kings of Hogwarts." George laced his fingers behind his skull as he began to look quite proud. "Think of it this way - we're letting you in on one of our pranks, and not everyone gets that. So, you want to?"

"No," Harry immediately said. "I don't want to trick anyone!" Thinking back to what his uncle had called tricks, he didn't want to be involved with anyone who did that to anyone, much less actually do it.

"Aw, common, it's fun," Fred wheedled.

"No, it's not!" Harry said, almost in tears. "It's not fun on the person getting tricked!" He looked over at Ron. "Do they ever trick you?"

"All the time," Ron said rolling his eyes.

"And you don't like it, do you?"

"It's alright," Ron said. "It's not worth the fuss you're making over it. Ending up short sheeted isn't that big a deal really."

"Short sheeted?"

"We really need to get him a dictionary," George commented again.

"How about Hermione?" Ron suggested. Harry blushed a deep crimson. Fred put a finger next to his nose.

"Your secret is safe with us," he whispered into Harry's ear. "Short sheeted," he continued more loudly, "when we take the bed sheets and make them too short so you can't cover yourself all the way. Standard prank."

"Oh," Harry said, the relief apparent in his voice.

"Why?" George said. "What did you think we meant?"

"You don't - tie people up, do you?"

"Absolutely not!" Fred said, suddenly sincere. "These are fun. They're not - bad or anything."

"Oh, good," Harry breathed in relief.

"Did you think we tied people up?" George asked.

"Maybe," Harry dodged.

"Whatever," Fred dismissed. "Want to help us prank someone?"

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Hmm," George said thoughtfully, "I don't suppose you'd want to prank your head of house, would you?" Harry paled.

"No!" he gasped.

"Didn't think so. He doesn't have a sense of humor anyway," George continued. "And we're not pranking McGonagall, so that leaves Percy. We can prank Percy."

"Okay," Harry agreed, reluctantly. He didn't know who Percy was, but he bet it would be loads better than pranking Professor Snape! "What will we do?"

"We have all these vomit flavored beans," Fred said, laying a bag of jelly beans on the table, "and we're going to put them into Percy's mashed potatoes."

"Won't he see them? They're not the same color," Harry observed.

"Ah, that's the beauty of it all," Fred continued. "We're going to spell his mashed potatoes the same color as the beans, and he'll think that's the prank! Little does he know until he takes a bite!"

"Alright," Harry agreed. The prank seemed harmless enough, and they seemed to really want him to do it. "What should I do?"

"We want you to distract Percy while we put the beans in his potatoes and spell them," George said. "He's right over there."

"He's a - a prefect!" Harry gasped.

"Yeah, and he's our brother, just roll with it," Fred interjected. "It'll be fine." Fred gave Harry a little push in Percy's direction and let him think up his own way to distract him. The twins went over to what would be Percy's place at the table and stuck the beans in, spelling the potatoes at the same time. Just moments later, Percy came up to them, Harry trailing behind, shrugging apologetically. George mouthed "It's okay" to Harry and gave him a discreet thumbs up.

"What have you done to the potatoes?" Percy wailed. "You and you stupid pranks!" He rolled his eyes, and sat down to eat them. He picked up his fork, and the twins watched in wrapped entertainment. He brought a forkful of them to his mouth, unsuspecting, and began to chew. It only took him a moment before he began to choke and spit it out onto the napkin next to his plate.

"What did you do?" he coughed, as Fred and George began to laugh hysterically.

"Merry Christmas!" they called as they ran off, sweeping Harry with them. Harry had to admit, the look on Percy's face had been quite amusing. And Fred and George didn't seem so bad. They were just - immature. And loud. Harry wasn't sure how to keep up with them sometimes. But he did like their loudness. It made him feel like he didn't have to say anything. They could do all the talking.

And so Harry had one meal in the Great Hall that didn't end in a mess, either with a breakdown or a troll. After supper, Professor Snape collected him and they walked back to his chambers.

.oO-Oo.

Severus had seen the prank and what was happening among the students. He had seen and decided not to intervene, first of all, because the twins were pranking their own brother, and second because he had seen how they handled Harry, and he approved. They were being brash Gryffindors, it was true, but they were being smart. They weren't such a bad lot to fall in with, Severus had decided.

"Did you have a good time with the Weasley twins?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, smiling a bit. Severus nodded.

"It's Christmas Eve," he began, trying to figure out some way of address the concept of opening presents. Harry had a small stack of them because his friends had left presents for Harry with him. "And on Christmas Eve, people give things to each other." Harry gasped and put a hand to his mouth. "What's wrong?"

"I don't have anything for you! Or anyone!"

"That's fine," Severus dismissed. "You haven't had any opportunity to get anything. And that wasn't my point. My point was - " And then a white smoky snake slithered into the room. "My point was that apparently we're not going to do what I had in mind." Blast it! Why did the Death Eaters have to call a meeting on Christmas Eve of all times? Severus wanted to scream. It was probably in their plans though, since it would be an extremely inconvenient time, to see just how far he was willing to go. In fact, it was perfect really. Would he put being a loyal Death Eater ahead of "family time" with the Boy Who Lived?

"I'm sorry," the snake began in Lucius' voice, "but a meeting was called tonight. I've put them off as long as I can. The children are expect. Draco has been instructed to see to Harry's well being. He will try to protect him as much as he can." Severus had narrowed his eyes, and was truly annoyed by this point.

"Alright, come along," he said to Harry, his annoyance apparently in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Harry squeaked, confused by Severus' change of tone, hoping that his annoyance wasn't directed at him.

"We're going to another meeting, but this time, some of the other children should be there," Severus explained quickly while he got his cloak and wand. "Draco will be there. Follow his lead. He'll try to help you if anyone tries to hurt you. And I'll be there too."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. They stepped through the floo into Lucius Malfoy's sitting room, where the others had already gathered.

"May I comment on the absolutely horrid timing you people possess?" Severus barked as a greeting to the others as he stepped through. "I'm sure we all have better things to do on Christmas Eve than this, do we not?" He didn't get an answer. Well, so much for that approach. Severus settled into the chair that usually reserved for him, as he motioned Harry to join Draco who was standing next to Lucius.

"Hi," he heard Draco greet Harry. Harry just nodded nervously.

"Nott wanted to - quiz - the children on various wizarding Christmas traditions," Lucius began, "but it will actually be McNair who does it." Severus nodded. "Thankfully it was decided that Nott was too partial to do the testing." Severus saw Draco whisper something into Harry's ear, and Harry nodded. Then Draco slipped a piece of paper to Harry. Harry smiled nervously at Draco, and muttered what Severus knew to be a thank you. Cheating? Well, Severus didn't think it was a particularly fair test to begin with. McNair collected the lot of children, mostly boys, including Harry, Draco, Crabbe's and Goyle's boys, and a few others, and ushered them into another room.

.oO-Oo.

McNair began to ask questions to each of them in turn. It didn't seem that he was favoring any in particular, Harry noticed, even though he expected to be singled out. Thankfully, Draco had handed him a paper, which he said would have the correct answer appear on it to any informational question that could be asked. It was a forbidden bit of cheating material at school, but Draco had one just so he could ask it questions when he was bored. So Harry could let the paper answer for him, as long as he was discreet. Sure enough, when his turn came, he let the paper take the question.

"What is the traditional Christmas feast include?"

"A roast pig, potatoes cooked in the ashes of a dying fire, and exotic fruit," Harry read off from the paper. But he had spent too long looking at his lap apparently.

"Give me your paper," McNair said in a long suffering way. Harry stood up on shaky legs, and handed to McNair with a nervous glance at Draco. "Cheating, I see," McNair drawled.

"It's mine, sir!" Draco pitched in. "He didn't know what it was going to do and he took it from me. He didn't know it would answer the question."

"So helping another student cheat?"

"No, sir," Draco said. "I didn't miss a question, did I? Well, that's why, and Harry just picked a bad time to pick it up from where I set it."

"You're a horrible liar," McNair said to Draco, and then turned to Harry. "You do know what the - traditional - punishment is for cheating, don't you?"

"No, sir," Harry said, as he began to quake with fear.

"Why don't you read it off of your all knowing paper?" McNair prompted, handing it back to Harry. Harry read it, and paled. "Read it aloud."

"To be subjected to the Cruciatus curse for no more than thirty seconds, and no less than ten," Harry gulped. He knew what a Crucio was. Professor Snape had covered the three unforgivables in the first lesson of Defense. Draco hissed behind him, as Harry handed the forbidden paper back to McNair.

"Draco?" McNair said. "I see no reason why you shouldn't receive full punishment, if things are as you say, and you were the one cheating, do you? After all, you know that rule, I'm sure?"

"I do, sir," Draco said.

"Crucio!" McNair said as he waved his wand at Draco. Thirty seconds of agony followed for the blonde boy as he fought against crying out. Flailing on the floor, half way into it, he gave up screamed. Harry didn't know what to do, and just watched in horror as his friend suffered for a lie on his account. When it was over, Draco got up and gave Harry a weak smile. One that was clearly meant to say "It was nothing" but failed at every turn.

"Now, Mr. Potter," McNair said, turning to Harry, "I believe that since you read it off the paper, this also qualifies as cheating, whether you intended it or not, and as I do not believe Mr. Malfoy's story, you, also, shall receive the full punishment of the law."

"Please, no," Harry begged. "I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"Crucio." With having years of experience behind him, Harry thought he'd be able to not cry out under the spell. But nothing he had endured measured up to the torture of the curse. It ripped through his body like fire he couldn't escape, and he screamed the moment it hit him. Harry stopped paying attention to anything in the room other than his own agony. He wasn't aware that Draco was nearly attacking McNair to defend him, and he wasn't aware that Professor Snape burst into the room at his scream.

.oO-Oo.

The men in the other room sat glowering at each other, no one saying much of anything. Severus waited, clearly impatient for the night's activities to be over. He hated the whole situation, and just wanted to be back in his chambers with Harry opening Christmas presents. Was that such an unreasonable wish? Then Draco's scream echoed through the building. Severus was on his feet in a moment.

"Severus," Lucius said, and shook his head. Severus glared at him, but took a seat again. Well, if he didn't want to interfere on behalf of his son, so be it. "I'm sure whatever has happened to Draco is within tradition, Severus," Lucius whispered. "Who am I to go against tradition?" Severus didn't respond. A moment later, he heard what he knew to be Harry's scream, and this time, he didn't hesitate, but rather burst into the room to interfere with whatever was going on. It took him only a moment to assess the situation. Harry lay on floor, screaming, as McNair pointed his wand at him.

"Stupefy!" Severus screamed as he waved his own wand at McNair. McNair collapsed to the ground, releasing Harry from his spell. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Draco rush to Harry's side. Glancing behind him, Severus saw Nott and his group of cronies raising their wands against him. Lucius stood by Severus. A battery of spells, both light and dark, flew between them, and by the end, all of them were seriously worse for wear. Severus was thankful that no one threw a killing curse. Not even Nott wanted to explain away killing him. It seemed like an eternity of casting and avoiding spells, but once it was over, Severus looked around the room, and spotted Harry crying in a corner, as Draco tried to offer comfort but was refused.

"Good night!" Severus screamed at the lot of them, excluding Lucius. He stormed over to where Harry and Draco were. After taking a deep breath to calm himself, he gently put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry shuttered and tried to pull away. Draco looked up at him with a most apologetic look.

"I - I'm sorry," Draco stammered. "I tried to help him - "

"I know," Severus dismissed. "You did everything you could, I'm sure." Draco nodded, and crept away from Harry and Severus.

"Time to go home," Severus whispered to Harry, who didn't react. Quietly, Severus picked Harry up, balancing Harry's weight on his hip and allowing Harry to bury his face into his robes. Wordlessly, the two of them disappeared through the floo back to Hogwarts.

Severus laid Harry out on the couch, but Harry curled into a ball as soon as he let go. Harry let out one shuttering sob before silencing himself once again.

"I don't even know what to say," Severus said, taking a seat beside Harry, and pulling him close. As expected, Harry didn't respond. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, but I can assure you, that you didn't deserve that. No one does, save perhaps a select few individuals I can think of. Would you like to open your Christmas presents now?" Severus wasn't sure it was the most appropriate time to bring that up, but he was hoping to distract Harry. He was sure was in pain from the remains of the curse, so he summoned a pain killer for him. It wouldn't do much, Severus knew, against a Crutatius, but even if it could take the edge off of Harry's pain it would be worth it. After administering it, he still hadn't received an answer to the original question.

"Would you like to open your Christmas presents now?" Severus asked again. He, Severus, was in awful shape, he knew, and he looked a mess, but he could take care of himself later. Harry just shook his head.

"No, sir," he finally managed. "Please don't make me."

"Why?" Severus asked.

"I - I don't know what they are," Harry stammered. "What if they're bad?"

"What do you mean?" Severus replied. Harry put Severus' hand over his forehead, and Severus felt himself being pulled into a memory.

.oO-Oo.

It was Christmas at the Dursleys, that much was for certain. There were Christmas decorations everywhere, and a tree in the corner of the room. Under the tree, a mound of presents wrapped in every color paper imaginable sat spilling into the room. The scene looked quite serene and pleasant actually, but Severus knew better than to trust it. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley then came into the room. Dudley began to search through a mound of presents. He began opening them and finding the newest and most expensive toys in them. Finally, he reached a particularly large box, and began to open it up. Inside, he found new school clothes. New white shirts, and brown trousers, a belt, and even a few colorful ties. Immediately, he began to pretend to cry.

"But - but - " he protested, "I thought this was going to be a real present!"

"It is, Duddikins," Petunia cooed at him. "You're just growing up so fast that we needed to get you some more school clothes."

"But it's not a fun present!" Dudley whined. "What fun can I have with a load of shirts and a belt? Only Daddy gets to beat the freak."

"You'll look really smart and handsome in your new clothes," Petunia tried to say.

"But I want it to be fun!" Dudley wailed. "If I'm going up so fast, why can't I have fun like Daddy?"

"Fine," Vernon growled. "Boy!" he screamed, and Harry came stumbling out of the kitchen, where, Severus knew, he had been fixing Christmas dinner, after having been forced to fast for an indefinite period of time. Harry was shaking and terrified, and from his size, Severus judged that this was likely just one year ago.

"Yes, sir?" Harry said, the terror apparent in his voice. His eyes wandered over the belt in Dudleys hands, and he wanted to run back into his cupboard for the rest of the day.

"Your Christmas present," Vernon said, and gestured to Dudley's belt. Dudley cracked it experimentally in the air, and Harry jumped.

"Get over here, and take off your shirt," Vernon said, and Harry edged closer to him and Dudley, though everything about his mannerisms was jerky and told of his intent desire to run in the opposite direction. Finally, Harry stood, quaking and shirtless, in front of Vernon, with Dudley to his left.

"Please no," Harry whispered. "I haven't done anything, really I haven't." He began to cry softly, and he put his head in his hands. Dudley pulled his belt back, and caught the back of Harry's knees in the blow, knocking the unprepared boy forward. He fell to his hands, and made a noise that was more from surprise than pain. But it didn't take a couple more minutes, and Dudley was throwing more lashes at him, causing him to bite back screams of agony. After what seemed like an eternity, Dudley got bored, and moved onto the next gift.

"This one's labeled for Harry," Dudley announced. "Why does he get a present?"

"I have a present?" Harry gasped, not sure whether he could believe it or not.

"Here," Dudley barked as he thrust the shoe box sized present at Harry. Harry began to open it up, still wary, but clearly hopeful. The box turned out to have a spring in it, and as soon as he opened it, glittery red and green confetti sprayed everywhere. Dudley screamed in delight, and Harry smiled though the remnants of his tears.

"Clean up the mess during supper," Vernon warned, "every piece, or there will be hell to pay."

Next thing Severus knew, Harry was being thrown into the cellar outside, with only a pair of pants on, as the door was closed above him. It was freezing cold, and Harry curled up into the darkest corner, trying to stay warm, and failing. He began to shiver, until finally he got too tired for it. Severus was sure Harry had been close to death by exposure that night, but apparently he had survived despite having the odds stacked against him.

.oO-Oo.

"I'm sorry," Harry said as his mind pulled away from Severus'.

"It's not your fault," Severus said, pulling Harry under his arm. "Christmas presents aren't like that. I promise."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, silent tears running down his face.

"Would you like me to show you that they're not? You have presents from your friends waiting for you."

"Alright, sir," Harry said, but what Severus didn't know was that Harry said yes more out of deference to him than out of actual desire. So together, Severus brought Harry over to a small tree they had set up earlier that day. Severus had set a time spell on the gifts so that they would appear under the tree. And there they were.

"Here's one from Draco," Severus said, handing Harry a small package. "Open it up." Harry cautiously began to undo the wrapping paper, careful not to rip it. Upon opening the box, he pulled out a model dragon. Attached was a note.

I hope you like it. His name is Amico. Merry Christmas. Draco

"He's beautiful," Harry gasped as he turned to dragon over in his hands.

"Here's one from Hermione," Severus said. Harry opened it and found a book on how to play more games than just Exploding Snap with a deck of a cards. From Neville, Harry got a plant. And from Ron, Harry got a wizarding chess set. Attached to the chess set though, was a sweater that Molly had made for Harry. Severus noted that she had used green for the majority of it, and put a large silver H on the front. Finally, Severus handed Harry his own gift. Harry opened it up and found a potions kit, complete with ingredients and recipes.

"You can make any of them on your own," Severus said. "They are all safe enough that you don't even have to wait for me to help you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, nearly in tears again, but this time from happiness and confusion over receiving real Christmas presents. Severus spotted one more present near the back of the tree. One that he didn't recognize. Taking it out, he performed some simple spells on it to make sure it was safe. Once he determined it was, he gave it to Harry.

"I don't know who this is from," he said, puzzled. "But it's safe enough." Harry opened it up, and out fell a silvery cloak, and a note that read, "This was your father's. Use it well."

"An invisibility cloak," Severus observed, clearly not happy with the situation.

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, though he wasn't sure what he was sorry for.

"Those are dangerous," Severus continued. "Don't actually use it, though I will allow you to keep it if you promise me you won't use it."

"I promise," Harry said.

"Very good." Severus knew who had given him that. It was Dumbledore, and he was none too pleased at having anything of James Potter's in his chambers, least of all a cloak that could prove problematic for keeping Harry safe.

"Don't you get any presents?" Harry asked.

"It's fine," Severus assured him. Setting the cloak aside, Harry got up nervously from where he had been sitting on the floor and went over to Severus. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around the potions master.

"Merry Christmas, sir," Harry whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Severus replied.


	24. The Boy Who Survived

Harry was quiet the rest of Christmas Eve, and Severus was doing his best to not ignore Harry. Severus was in pain. He had been hit by several curses, and he had started to go about healing himself. What he wanted to do was to forget that there was anyone else on the face of the earth and either sleep or read. But that would have been cruel to Harry, he knew. But Harry was reserved that evening and the next day.

Severus noticed that Harry spent a large portion of Christmas day sitting on the sofa using the knife-made-journal. Severus, of course, had mixed feelings about it. It was a signal that Harry was struggling with something - undoubtedly the previous night's fiasco - but at least he was using an acceptable coping method. Severus wished that Harry would ask him to read what he'd written. Severus wanted to know what was going through Harry's mind. But almost more importantly, Severus wanted Harry to tell him what was going through his mind. It wasn't good the way Harry kept his thoughts bottled up inside. Well, he thought, it wasn't like he wasn't guilty of the very same thing. He never talked to anyone either.

So, Severus shrugged it off. He decided that he would let Harry write in his journal until Harry decided to come to him with whatever was bothering him. He would, of course, keep a close eye on Harry and make sure no harm came to him.

.oO-Oo.

As the weeks continued to roll by, the little "fearsome foursome" as they were termed, continued to meet in the library and prepare for the upcoming tests. Hermione was being her usual know-it-all self, trying to get the rest of them to study like there was no tomorrow. Well, Ron had tried to argue, if there was no tomorrow, why should they bother studying today? Draco and Hermione, while they still despised each other, worked quite well together, they found. Both were intelligent and took school seriously. Neville tried to study but he was clumsy and it was difficult for him to get the right wand movement. As he became more confident with the group, though, his confidence rose and his wand work improved. Hermione helped and drilled him, which was finally beginning to pay off.

It was Harry Potter that brought them together, and it was Harry Potter that kept them together. More often than not, when two or more of them were preparing to rip each others throats out, simply a mention of Harry was enough to get them to lay down their arms and post-pone the disagreement indefinitely. Some, perhaps, wouldn't have called them friends. Every so often they themselves wondered if they were friends. But, for Harry's sake, they would do anything for each other - even Malfoy and Weasley - and so they began to apply the word friend to each other.

.oO-Oo.

The Easter holidays came and went, and the Professors piled on the homework for them. It became difficult for them to find the time to see Harry, but each of them, even Hermione, set aside school long enough to spend one evening a week with him.

One day, Hermione came to their study table a few minutes late. Highly uncharacteristic.

"Something wrong, Granger?" Draco asked, when he caught sight of the look on her face. It was a combination of annoyance and worry.

"Hagrid's got a dragon," she announced.

"So kind of him to let me know of my namesake," Draco drawled. Ron made a face at him. Draco smirked back.

"Seriously?" Neville said.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Norwegian Ridgeback. He got the egg a little while ago and it's hatched now."

"Doesn't he know those things grow?" Draco asked, incredulous.

"Of course he does!" Hermione snapped.

"Down, girl," Draco muttered.

"He just isn't thinking," Hermione went on. "And he's going to get in trouble if he keeps it much longer."

"My brother - Charlie - takes care of wild dragons in Romania," Ron interjected.

"You think he can take this one off our hands?" Hermione said.

"I don't see why not," Ron replied.

"The real question," Draco observed, "is why does Hagrid have a dragon at all?"

.oO-Oo.

Harry continued to live in Severus' chambers, and all continued to go well. Harry learned how to journal, but even though Severus noticed that Harry would sometimes spend hours writing, never once did Harry discuss what he wrote or ask him to read it. Harry stayed out of trouble, almost religiously, and there were no further incidents over the next few months, for which Severus was rather grateful. The Death Eaters had been laying low since an expedition where the violation of a Muggle family had backfired.

None of the Death Eaters could figure out how it had gone wrong. But, mysteriously, there had been law enforcement surrounding the house. When Lucius asked why they were there, the answer had been that an anonymous informant had said that a gang was planning some stunt in that area. Who the anonymous informant was, the Death Eaters didn't know. Lucius had his suspicions - and he was correct - but he never said a word to anyone about them.

Harry's education continued to come along quite well, despite Harry's lack of magical demonstrations. Severus kept him on the routine of meditation, but with each passing week, Severus' confidence in his methods began to seep away. Harry wasn't showing any improvement, and for that Severus was concerned. How would Harry ever be able to defend himself against the numerous threats in the wizarding world if he couldn't even cast a simple spell? Because Severus had no other ideas, he continued with the regimen.

Spring was coming, and Severus began to allow Harry and his friends to spend their evenings outside in the little alcove behind his chambers. The weather was warming up, and they seemed to like being allowed outside. It had been a difficult day for Harry. The classes were the ones where he needed to cast spells, and he was frustrated because he still couldn't. Severus noticed that on these days, Harry always spent more time writing in his journal than on other days.

But Neville was coming over that night, and Severus hoped that that would help Harry cheer up. As per his usual, Harry was writing when Neville came by. The two of them went outside, Harry immediately forgetting his book on the table. Severus was drawn to the open book, left sprawling on the table. His eyes fell over that days entry.

I just don't know. Am I even a wizard? I can't do the spells the Professor wants me to do, and I just don't understand it. If I'm really a wizard, doesn't that mean I should be able to do spells? But I can't. He's really patient with me, Professor Snape. He hasn't punished me at all for it. He hasn't even yelled at me. But I can tell he's frustrated. He glares at my pine needle every so often, and sometimes I think that he's trying to be angry with it instead of me.

Hogwarts is a school for wizards. If I don't get my magic working by the end of the school year, I think I might be sent away. What school wants a freak who can't do the very thing that they're trying to teach? I'm not a Muggle, like normal people, and I'm not even a proper wizard. And if I'm sent away, what will happen to me? Professor Snape is very nice and everything, and he takes really good care of me, better than I deserve, in fact, but...but I can't expect him to take care of me forever, can I? He's not my guardian. If he's not even my teacher, then who would I go back to? I don't think I can face going back to the Dursleys. They'd kill me. I just know it. It's probably all I deserve, but I don't think I can face it.

Does that make me selfish? Because I don't want to go back there? Professor Snape keeps going on about how they abused me and such, and how I'm good and worth it, and how he loves me and my friends love me, but I'm not sure I believe him. I mean, I want to. But how can I? It's like there are two cliffs, one is Professor Snape's world, and the other is my own, and between them, there is an endless chasm. I can't jump over it, or I'll fall, and fall, and fall, and there's no bridge for me to walk across. If by my death I could help him, I certainly would.

The pit between our worlds is almost as dark as the nightmares too. I dream at night, and they're always the same. It's either about the Dursleys, or it's a dream with a green light and a lady screaming. I don't know what the second dream is, and that makes it all the scarier. I feel like I should know, but I don't. It only started after the mirror. I hate that thing, but I want to see it again. It keeps tugging at my mind, that I need to see it again. Professor Snape would be furious if he knew I wanted to see it.

I feel so confused and lost. He's been taking care of me for months now, but sometimes, sometimes I feel like I'm just as lost as when he first opened my cupboard door. I just don't know.

And that was where the entry ended. Severus hadn't intended to read it. He just had. Afterwards, he felt horrible that he had violated Harry's privacy, the very thing that he had promised Harry that he would never violate. Quietly, Severus closed to book.

At least he knew something of what was bothering Harry though. Harry was concerned about having to go back to the Dursleys, and Severus was determined that that would never happen. He needed to start working on getting custody of Harry, and after reading what he had, he knew he would start that day. If he could promise Harry that he would never have to go back, perhaps some of Harry's fears would be eased.

.oO-Oo.

No one was quite sure whose idea it was by the end, but the fearsome foursome had contacted Charlie, and set up a date to hand the dragon over. Despite the fact that Hagrid was particularly distraught about losing his dragon, it looked like they were going to successfully deliver the dragon to its new keeper.

They were just started to celebrate on the stairs coming down from the astronomy tower when Professor McGonagall came down the hallway.

"Merlin," Draco hissed as soon as she spotted the four of them.

"What in heaven's name do you think you're doing?" she asked them. "It's one o'clock in the morning!" They looked at each other, not knowing what to say or do.

"I was showing them Mars," Hermione pitched in. "It's unusually bright, and it will be even brighter tomorrow." McGonagall gave them a long, hard look.

"Really, now."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said, with a most convincing innocence in her voice. "We've all been studying together. I'm sure you're aware?"

"Of course I am."

"How else should we study for the astronomy exam than to be out on the astronomy tower?" McGonagall huffed at them.

"Then get to bed, all of you," she said. "I'm sure you've done enough studying tonight to get you through your third year test."

"Yes, ma'am," Draco said. "Thanks for your help, Granger. Now I can tell when the moon's in its zenith."

"You're welcome, Malfoy," Hermione replied.

.oO-Oo.

"Lucius," Severus said, stepping out of the floo. "I need your help to get custody of Harry. I don't need to adopt him - just be his guardian. Do you think you can arrange this?"

"I'll see what I can do, Severus," he responded. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to get around to that."

"I was hoping that Dumbledore would do something, but apparently the old fool is intent on having Harry go back to his sorry excuse for relatives."

"I see," Lucius said. "I'm sure I can arrange something. I know that the trial is still on hiatus in the Ministry, but I'm sure I can bring enough testimonial evidence to child protective services that I can illustrate that you would be a person to care for Harry. I hardly have to point out that as long as his relatives are temporarily detained by the ministry that they are not much of an option. The only difficulty would be if Dumbledore manages to get their case thrown out before the end of the school year. Barring that, I doubt I'll have much trouble. Even if he is the Boy Who Lived."

"Thank you," Severus said. "I suspect that Harry and I will both sleep easier at night without that hanging over us."

"Then, sleep well," Lucius said.

.oO-Oo.

Despite Lucius' assurances as to the simplicity of the task, apparently Dumbledore was doing his best to stop the process. Oh, it was all very subtle of course, but Severus was sure that Dumbledore was behind each and every difficulty that they encountered.

Exam week came, and Harry was doing his best to pass what he could of his exams. He was taking each exam with Professor Snape proctoring, and he could see that Harry was doing brilliantly at potions and herbology. The only thing Harry couldn't handle was the practical on the classes that needed spell work. He was perfectly prepared on the theory behind the spells though.

Then, after tests were finished, there was a week of vacation before the results were published. Harry had come a long way in the past year, Severus realized. He had found Harry a bloody, beaten mess in the corner of a cupboard, and now, though still lacking confidence and assertiveness, Harry was much improved, both in mind and body. There was still a long way to go, but progress was definite.

"Harry," Severus said after he had completed his History of Magic exam, "I think, if you want, you can leave my chambers and see what Draco and the others are up to." Severus figured that it was likely one of the safest times of year to let Harry out of his sight. It was the last week, with exams finished, and Harry had solidified his friendships with the others. Severus felt he could trust Draco, Neville, Ron and Hermione to look after Harry.

"Can I take my wand please?" Harry asked. "All the others have them, and well - "

"Of course," Severus said, without hesitation.

What could possibly go wrong?

.oO-Oo.

"Harry!" Draco called, brightening up. As always, he was floating around near the edges of their fearsome foursome. Never quite accepted, Draco had some reservations about his presence in the group. He knew that they didn't accept him because he hadn't quite accepted them, and he was fine with that. "What are you doing here?" Draco ran up to meet Harry, who was walking cautiously down the hallway. More quietly, once he had approached, Draco added, "Does Professor Snape know you're here?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "He said I could go out and see if you were doing anything." Harry was nervous, Draco could see.

"Actually, yes," he said, "we are doing something. Want to get the run down?"

"Alright," Harry hesitated.

"So, ever heard of the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked. Draco proceeded to explain that the Philosopher's Stone was being held at Hogwarts, on the third floor, guarded by Fluffy. "Hagrid told some guy in a cloak how to get by Fluffy," he continued. "You have to play music and the dog goes to sleep. And we think he's going to try to steal the stone tonight. Dumbledore got a note to go to the Ministry of Magic."

"Who do you think the thief is?" Harry asked.

"Well, you see," Draco began, "that's a point of contention between us. Hermione and I, we think it's Quirrel. Neville and Ron, well, they think - they think it's someone else."

"Who?" Harry pushed.

"Just another teacher," Draco shrugged. "And whoever it is, they've put together some scatter-brained plan to stop him."

"Why would someone want it? The Philosopher's Stone?" Draco shifted his weight nervously.

"It's the Dark Lord," he whispered into Harry's ear. "He wants it to come back in human form again." Draco looked Harry in the eye. "I don't entirely know why I'm here with them, but I suppose it's to keep Granger from breaking her neck and your heart at the same time. Don't you dare get the idea that I'm working against the Dark Lord."

"Of course not," Harry said. Then, after a pause, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Draco said, with a nod.

"Harry!" Ron called, only just then noticing that he was standing there.

"Hi," he responded.

"What are you doing here?"

"Professor Snape said I could," Harry said, suddenly defensive.

"Oh," Ron said. "See?" he said, turning to Draco and Hermione, "I told you. Snape's after the Stone!"

"What?" Harry said.

"Snape's after the Stone!" Ron repeated.

"Shut up, Weasel," Draco sneered.

"But he is!" Ron continued. "He's even getting rid of Harry so that he can go after it! And since we're onto him, if Harry comes with us, then he's gotten rid of his opposition too!"

"I said," Draco growled, "shut up!" Harry had gone pale at Ron's accusations.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron said. "But I just don't think that Snape has all the best intentions. And of course you'd defend him, Malware, you're both Death Eaters!"

"It's not Professor Snape," Hermione put in, "and honestly, it doesn't really matter. We just have to save the stone now that McGonagall doesn't believe us. Whether it's Snape or Quirrel, it doesn't matter, okay?" The others nodded. "Forgive Ron's ineptitude," Hermione said, turning to Harry. "There's no way Snape's after the Stone. So you don't have anything to worry about."

"Okay," Harry said, not sounding entirely convinced.

"So let's get going," Hermione said, leading the group to the third floor. With a simple Alohomora, Hermione opened the door to where the stone was hidden. Quickly, she pulled out a harmonica and began to play Jimmy Crack Corn before Fluffy could eat them. She motioned the rest of them to get down the trap door while she played.

"Who's going first?" Ron hissed quietly.

"Well, don't look at me!" Draco hissed back. "You're the Gryffindor!"

"Right, right," Ron muttered, as he jumped down the hole. "It's safe!" he called back. "There's a plant down here to break your fall!" One by one, the rest followed Ron, including Harry and Hermione.

"Merlin's pants!" Ron screamed. "The plant's eating me!" Hermione quickly cast a soft lumos charm, and began to look at what Ron was screaming about.

"It's Devil's Snare," Hermione said. "Likes the dark...likes the dark..." she muttered.

"Oh, come off it, Granger," Draco said. "Incendio!" In a moment the plant receded as Draco's fire began to burn it. They stumbled out of the Devil's Snare, and into a room with hundreds of things flying around.

"Keys," Harry observed. "The key for the door over there is one of these."

"Oh no..." Neville moaned. "How are we going to get the right one? Snape will have the Stone before we can try all of them!"

"Snape's not after the Stone!" Hermione snapped.

"Brooms!" Harry said.

"What?" Ron replied.

"There's brooms over there. Draco? Our tricks?"

"Yes," Draco said, with what would have been a truly evil grin in any other circumstance. Each of them grabbed a broom, and they rose into the air, circling in the keys.

"That one!" Harry cried, and they began to spiral around it, doing rehearsed moves until Harry reached out and caught it. "There!" Bringing it down, they fit it into the door and it opened. No one had even stopped to notice that Harry used a broom other than the Nimbus he'd gotten from Professor Snape. They stumbled into a dark room, but light filled it the moment they reached it.

"A chess board," Ron gasped. "We have to win the game of chess! Um - can I take this one? I kind of am the best chess player here."

"Go ahead," Draco said. And when a Malfoy admits a Weasley is better at something, that's when everyone else won't question. Ron assigned each person a piece and they began to play. Really, no one understood what was going on except Ron. Finally, they neared the end of the game.

"I'm going to sacrifice myself, Harry, and you need to checkmate the king after!" He explained how Harry was to move.

"But you can't do that!" Harry objected.

"It's the way of life, okay?" Ron snapped back. "Just keep that Stone away from Snape or whoever is after it!" And Ron ordered his piece to move to where it could be taken. Harry watched as Ron was thrown from the board, and lay still where he landed. So Harry checkmated the king, and the white pieces lay down their arms.

"Ron - is he - ?" Harry gasped to Neville.

"I think he's fine," Neville said. "Just unconscious. We need to move on."

"Okay," Harry said.

They all walked on, and saw a dead troll.

"Well, we already passed that test," Draco said wryly. After that, they spotted a table with potions, and a parchment with a riddle on it. Purple flames shot up behind them at the same time as black flames shot up in front of them. Hermione read the riddle aloud.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

"Oh dear," Hermione said. "We'll never be able to sort this out."

"It's the short bottle," Neville said. "I do these logic puzzles all the time. The short one will get you through the black flames towards the Stone and the round one will get you back through the purple ones."

"Brilliant, Neville!" Hermione said.

"But there's only enough for one of us to drink in the short bottle," Draco observed. After a moment, he said, "I'll drink it."

"Oh, no you won't," Hermione said. "You might be a half-decent fellow some of the time, but you're not leading the charge against You-Know-Who. I don't trust you that much!" Draco glared at her.

"The who do you propose?"

"Excuse me?" Harry squeaked.

"Yes?" Draco said.

"Well, whoever's in there, he had to drink the potion to get in there right?"

"I would think so," Hermione said.

"And there's more potion here now, so wouldn't that mean that it never runs out of potion?"

"By Merlin, you're right, Harry!" Neville said. "We can all go in there!"

"Someone needs to take care of Ron, and get the Headmaster," Hermione stated. She paused, and looked at Harry. "How about you?"

"No," Harry replied. "I - I don't want to do that. You should."

"But Harry - it'll be dangerous," Hermione said, unaware that she was simply making Harry's case stronger. "You could be killed."

"So could you," Harry said. "I won't go help Ron, so - so...you'd better." Hermione made a face.

"Fine," she said. She drank from the round bottle, and before she left, her expression softened. As she passed Harry, she whispered, "Thank you." She didn't feel she needed to be saved, but she remembered the conversation with Draco a semester before.

Individually, the three remaining boys drank from the small bottle, which did in fact replenish itself, and stumbled through the black flames. Like Draco and Hermione had predicted, they saw Quirrel standing there.

"It is Quirrel," Draco said, triumphant.

"Well, well, well," Quirrel said, "three boys." He snapped his fingers, and ropes bound all three of them. "Sorry, Draco," he said. "But as long as you're hanging around with riffraff that is trying to oppose the Dark Lord, then I will have to treat you as such. For the son of Lucius Malfoy, you certainly have a strange collection of friends." Then he turned to Harry. "And Harry Potter," he sneered. "The great Boy-Who-Lived. Stayed away in Snape's chambers all year. I couldn't get a decent shot at killing you all that time." Suddenly another figure came through the fire. It was Professor Snape.

.oO-Oo.

"Leave the boys alone," Severus growled.

"For one serving the Dark Lord," a new voice drawled, "you certainly do have a way of appearing to fight against me."

"My Lord," Severus said. "Quirrel is inept, and there have been many developments since your unfortunate disappearance. On the day you return, I will explain everything to you." While Severus was talking, Quirrel undid his turban, and revealed Voldemort's face.

"Of course, Severus," he said. "As you said, Quirrel is inept. He can't get the Stone. Can't figure out how the mirror works. Severus? You get it."

The three boys, watched in rapt amazement. Suddenly Draco started working to untie Harry's bonds. Severus stood in front of the mirror. He choked back a cry of shock.

"What is it?" the Dark Lord demanded.

"It's - it's not the stone," Severus stammered.

"What is it?" he repeated.

"It's Lily and - and Harry," Severus said, too shocked to lie. "I'm taking care of the boy, currently," Severus hastened to explain. "And he will be your faithful follower."

"Really," the Dark Lord said, unconvinced, but clearly curious.

"Yes, my Lord."

"He lies," Quirrel put in. He drew his wand, and aimed it at Severus, who took up an equally threatening position.

"Perhaps," the Dark Lord said. "There are ways - perhaps painful ways - but ways of finding out."

"Expelliarmus!" Harry's voice cried out. A light shot from his wand, as he shrugged off the ropes that Draco had just untied. Quirrel dropped his wand with the force of the impact, unexpected as it was. Severus let his jaw drop in amazement. But after a few moments, he collected himself, and casting a spell at the ceiling, brought down a boulder on Quirrel's head.

.oO-Oo.

With Quirrel dead, Severus collected the group of first years, and brought them back to the third floor landing.

"I expect all of you to report to your heads of house," he growled. "Draco, meet me in my office."

"Yes, sir," Draco said. They scuttled off.

"And now, you, Harry," Severus said, not unkindly. "You. I don't know what to say to you." They began to walk towards his chambers. "You did magic."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, slightly pleased with himself.

"How did you do it?"

"I don't know, sir," he said. "It just - happened."

"Because you were defending someone," Severus observed quietly. They arrived at his chambers. "I will speak more with you in a few minutes," he said.

.oO-Oo.

Harry entered the chambers and immediately went to his room. He knew what he had to do. He'd thought about it long and hard, and though he was scared, very, very scared, he would do it anyway. The fear and adrenaline he felt mounting were almost like a drug. He grabbed his Slytherin scarf and pulled the chair away from his desk. He tied the scarf in a loop and then fastening it to the ceiling.

"There are ways - perhaps painful ways - but ways of finding out." It had been what the Dark Lord had said. He'd caused Professor Snape enough pain already. What if the Dark Lord killed him one day? What if Professor Snape died trying to save him? Harry couldn't face that thought. So he was going to defend his professor in the only way he knew how - to kill himself.

Not even the fear of returning to the Dursleys had brought him to suicide. He wasn't going to be selfish. Killing himself was out of pure necessity, only to defend Professor Snape. Though escaping the Dursleys once and for all, in a place where no one could call him back, was what Harry though an extremely good side effect. Harry spent an untold amount of time looking at the noose he'd made. Finally, numb with fear, he slipped it over his head and kicked the chair aside. It thudded to the floor, as Harry kicked at the air.

.oO-Oo.

Nitty heard a thud, and rushed into Harry's bedroom. She immediately disapparated to Master Severus' office, despite the fact that he was in conference with a student.

.oO-Oo.

Severus knelt by Harry's bed, his hands clasped, as he prayed. He'd gotten there in time - barely - to save Harry. He was laying unconscious as Severus kept a silent vigil by his side. Harry coughed, and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Professor?" he gasped.

"Oh, Harry," Severus said, bringing Harry into a sloppy embrace, almost crying. "Why?"

"To protect you," he mumbled into Severus' robes. "The Dark Lord will kill you - because of me, won't he?"

"No, he won't," Severus assured Harry, rocking him slightly.

"What will happen to me now?" Harry said. "Will I have to go back to the Dursleys?"

"Absolutely not," Severus said. "I've promised you that will never happen, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"I have just received these papers this afternoon," Severus said, picking up an envelope from the foot of the bed. "They are stating that you are in my care - permanently."

"You mean - " Harry gasped, " - that you're adopting me?"

"Not adopting," Severus corrected, "but I am your legal guardian. Is that acceptable with you?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry said.

"It would have been a horrible first day, if you had succeeded," Severus said.

And Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Survived, brought his arms around Severus' neck in a gentle hug.

THE END


End file.
